#will get to yours soon if you sent in a request! :D

[heartilywrites]

until my lips turn blue ; c. hyunju

request guide | masterlist

summary: a life or death situation had found your relationship.

content: hyunju x fem!reader ; r is a square guard ; descriptions of violence and blood ; description of death ; a shit ton of narration : ANGST ; english is not my first language, this may have grammar errors ; no use of y/n

wc: 2k

note: i would like to apologize beforehand, mainly because i have only written angst for my Hyunju's os,,, but i swear i'll get some comfort and fluff soon because s3 genuinely pissed me off :D i'm sorry if this is shit, i'm really trying to get back to writing one step at a time ENJOY EITHER WAYYY

You’ve always thought that your life was a bit of a misfortune, one after the other, but the last week had to be the mere confirmation of how you were destined for chaos.

Who would’ve thought that your butterfly effect would be a simple call to your old boss asking if they have any new job for you as you needed money to finally settle your girlfriend’s debt with the bank and you were having quite the hard time landing in a well paid job; she didn’t have much luck either as she couldn’t get past the first interview. You had promised her that you’d get the money for her, you just needed time.

Seeing her in the mortal games you were recruited to cover was a dagger to your heart, you needed to take her out of there. You were a high rank guard, sure, but that didn’t exempt you from taking out a player alive. Every night you stressed over how to make Hyunju get out of there alive, you had to make her win however you could. You’ve decided not to tell her that you were there, but your eye never neglected her figure; you asked for more responsibility to be close to her, but never let your higher bosses know that your girlfriend was there playing or that it was the reason you were asking as you knew that could endanger Hyunju and the VIPs would want to see some tragic love shit.

And oh, how you wished you didn't give them such a great spectacle to get their whole attention back to the event, but you got caught in the crossfire the night you were sent with a group of triangle soldiers to stop the “sudden” massacre and announce the dead players. Your eyes were looking for Hyunju, not considering that she may be one of the figures on the floor, that a sudden bang from a weapon caught your attention.

Confused, you were quick to fire back to the attackers hiding as much as you could. And then your eyes saw her, shooting clean shots to each guard near her that you almost missed the call for retrieving.

Your feet tried to run as fast as possible to get you to the safe ground, but when the doors closed on your face you knew you were about to regret it all. The players asked for your surrender and you, without hesitation, followed as instructed. Even with a gun to your head, your eyes were fixated on Hyunju’s every move, praying in your head they didn’t ask you to remove your mask.

You didn’t know how your girlfriend would react to you being a guard… A high ranking guard, nonetheless. Would she hate you? She most definitely would hate the living life out of you, you saw how everyone was suffering and did nothing to stop it. You saw the woman explain how to use the rifle with such intelligence that made you remember how much you loved her, how you were lucky to have her… How it would destroy the two of you if she knew you were the guard kneeled beside them.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Your mask.” Gihun called, pointing the gun at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Please…” you whispered, voice distortioned. The click of the gun charging made you follow instructions once more.

Shaky hands were taking off the cap of your uniform and the mask, you still had the hood covering your factions, but were demanded to take it off as well. A sigh left your mouth before taking it off as well and looking up to the players, Hyunju’s heart dropped at the sight of you.

The other man beside Gihun was about to speak when he was interrupted by Hyunju’s shaking voice calling your name, you couldn’t look at her directly, but your eyes filled with tears to her presence getting closer to you.

Everyone looked confused and when she was about to kneel in front of you, the leader of the new revolution stopped her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“That’s my girlfriend,” she explained, taking the gun off her shoulder. Gihun frowned in a mix of anger and confusion, but didn’t take the gun out of your way and Hyunju finally kneeled with you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I could ask the same question,” you answered, looking to your right. “You were supposed to wait for me.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“And you were supposed to get a non-violent job!” she fired back, taking your face in her hand to force your eyes to see her. “Do you have any idea–?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Do you have any idea how stupid and dangerous it is for you to be here!? Didn’t we fucking agree I’d get the money for you and you wouldn’t worry anymore!?” you spat back, angry.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I’m not the one killing people for money!” Hyunju screamed back, her hand was taken away from your face with anger too. “I didn’t ask you to take my debt, let alone did I want you to kill people to pay it. How could you do this to me?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I just wanted the best for you!” you felt helpless, you didn’t know how to explain to your girlfriend how this was all for her. “Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me not to interfere in each game to save you? I’m willing to give you my whole life if necessary because I love you, Hyunju, I thought that was clear from the beginning.”

Brown colored and troubled eyes looked at yours with concern, hurt by such betrayal.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Hyunju, we have to go.” Gihun intervened, looking back at you. “Take us to your leader, right now.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Can I take her?” the woman asked, looking back at the player. “I… I want to talk to her.”

When the wish was granted, instead of having a gun to your head, Hyunju took your hand looking for comfort. Confused, you looked back at her, she just gave you a crooked smile.

You knew Gihun was pointing a gun at you behind your girlfriend, but it didn’t really matter to you. Her hand held yours with such strength that made you believe Hyunju was trying to accept that you were a guard there, that now your life was on the line too.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Why are you here?” she asked while you were guiding the group to the control room.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I was offered a big amount of money if I completed some tasks that needed full discretion…” you answered, biting your bottom lip. “I didn’t know the task was this secretive or that you’d be here… If I knew, I wouldn't have accepted.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“So you were okay with killing innocents if I wasn’t here?” she asked, a bit disgusted with the idea, you shook your head quickly.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I didn’t say that,” you were fast to deny it. You stopped for a second and turned around to her, everyone pulled their guns to you, but you didn’t care. Your hands looked to rest on Hyunju’s face. “I will always try to do my best for you, my love. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, if I have to put you on top of everyone else I’ll do it without hesitation.”

Her eyes looked at yours with such devotion, but they were still hurt, troubled and even hard to read now. A scream of warning took the both of you out of your bubble when a group of triangle soldiers were shooting at you.

You took that moment to appreciate how your girlfriend looked when taking down the guards, you were sure your eyes were heart shaped at that moment. You didn’t remember how good she looked in action, but were feeling blessed to have sights of it again. When the shooting stopped, Gihun pushed you to walk again; now he was beside you while Hyunju was on your other side.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“When we get out of here, I’ll have a serious talk with you about jobs you accept.” Hyunju said, making you giggle a bit. “I mean it… I don’t want you to risk your life for me.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“I won’t take another one like this when we get to Thailand, I promise.” you looked back to her, taking her hand and squeezing it a little.

But you knew that it wouldn’t be that easy, I mean. Letting players go is one thing, letting players and a high ranking guard leave? Yeah, it wouldn't turn out so well.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“How long until we arrive?” Gihun asked, pulling you by the uniform, and you turned to him. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“Turning in this hallway you’ll get to the management area and going up, the control room.” you answered pointing in front of you. He pointed the way now with the gun, instructing you to keep walking.

Your hand moved to one of the pockets of your uniform. “Hey, what are you doing!?” The man was quick to stop you, you looked at your girlfriend who looked scared at what the other player would do to you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“You can’t get in without the mask.” you answered like it was obvious, hiding the panic that started to grow on you. His hand let go and you took the mask out.

When you turned to the rest of the group, you saw a familiar face that you didn’t notice before and that made you frown confused. Could that…?

Thoughts were stopped by a sudden bang, your eyes opened surprised and Hyunju let out a scream. A new group of soldiers had caught up to you and to stop you from giving them access, a bullet had been shot to your throat.

While everyone started to fire back, Hyunju held you in her arms and applied pressure to the bleeding wound on your neck.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍“No, no, no, don’t you dare to die like this, I won’t forgive you if you do!” she said, desperate. You, on your side, couldn’t respond back even if you wanted to.

When you tried to speak, blood was being spat by your mouth, you felt like you were drowning. Your body started to feel heavy with every second passing by, was that really how you were going to leave?

‘Oh, Hyunju… How unfortunate could we be to have this epilogue in our story?’ your foggy mind was able to formulate while forcing your eyes to look at her.

“Please, I need you,” she cried, holding you closer to her. Squeezing your tired body. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited like you said… We still have so much to do, remember!? Please, no like this.”

You were fighting, you swore you were fighting to stay, but the blood lost was draining you and your eyes couldn’t focus anymore either. Your trembling hand looked to caress her cheek for a moment before dropping it to your chest and clumsily taking out your necklace, a beautiful butterfly she gifted you on your last birthday. She cried harder to the sight of it.

Hyunju pressed her forehead against yours while crying and whispering smalls ‘I love you’ alongside some love words to make sure you at least were going to leave with the security of her love for you. When she distanced her face, your eyes had already lost the characteristic glow she loved to see and her crying just got harder. Her heart broke completely in the span of seconds, but she couldn’t grieve you at that moment as the screams of one of her mates obligated her to lock back in to stop soldiers from taking out her group. Quick hands took your necklace to put it on her own neck as a symbol of her new goal: avenge your death and get out of there alive for both of you.

[miyukisu]

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY

[bwabys-scenarios]

Can you do one where kurapika asks his s/o to sit on his face while he eats them out?? If that's okay!

(Also this is my first request so I'm so sorry if it's not good😭)

“… come again?”

You as your boyfriend blushed furiously, tracing circles into your bare thigh. “D-don’t make me ask again…”

Kurapika pouted a bit, you weren’t used to seeing him this shy!

He had just looked up at you, his scarlet eyes shining and his face red as he asked you that question that had your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Sit on my face, princess.”

Your own cheeks grew warm, and you settled on top of him. Kurapika was quick to move into position, desperate to get to your pussy and taste you.

As you hovered over his face, he rubbed your thighs, gently pulling you closer. “I said sit, don’t hover. Sit on my face.”

With that you finally settled, feeling hsi tongue lap against your cunt before burying itself into your folds. His hot breath fanned against your warm cunt, making your clit twitch.

“K-Kurapika!”

You grabbed hold of his blonde locks, and he slowly guided your hips, helping you ride his face. Feeing your plump thighs squishing against your cheeks and your juices flow down his throat was the pinnacle of pleasure.

His cock twitched from the confines of his boxers, begging to be released, but he focused on your pleasant weight atop him, how your hips moved on your own now.

He nuzzled his nose against your clit, inhaling your sent as his tongue continued to fuck in and out of you. Soon he could feel you clenching around him, covering his face in your cum.

It took you a while to recover, but Kurapika wasn’t done with you yet. He continued to overstimulate your poor cunt until you were a blubbering mess, only able to buck your hips as he held onto your thighs, keeping you there.

Your brain was too fuzzy, pussy too desperate to be filled to protest when he finally settled you down and fucked into you, his cock now buried in your warmth.

He had never came so much before, but he shot koaf after load into you, his lips on your neck and shoulder sucking hard.

Kurapika was a hungry man, desperate to please you, even if it was to the point of tears.

—————

NSFW TAGLIST: @adissonsss @lightshowerrr @snugglyshoji @mssmil3y

[piplup335]

Griefer x reader! (post-Venomshank when he has all the plant stuffs)

*inhale* HELLO, F E L L A S wanted to try writing for block tales lmao, probably gonna open requests for them mb I wanna work on requests but I'm tryna write self-indulgent reqs rn aaaaaa I'm sorry ;-; but yeah uh first time writing for block tales, I'm trying :,D enjoy!

⋯⇋ ૮(•͈⌔•͈)ა ⇌⋯

You were tired of everything that had happened to you so far.

When you were torn out of your timeline so you could go back to the past to help Shedletsky get the SFOTH swords, you really didn't know what to expect. You expected an arduous journey, sure...after all, these swords were the stuff of legend. You knew that much...after all, the swords also existed in your timeline, and you learnt about them before.

You didn't expect...everything else.

When you were first sent to get the Ice Dagger after having a short, grumpy penguin guide you through the ropes of the new world, the journey you went on was predictable, to say the least. Having some old, regal king as the guardian of the sword wasn't unexpected to you, especially because of all the video games you played in your old world. What you didn't expect was how delirious he seemed to be.

Based on what you heard from the villagers living in the kingdom, he was a reasonable and just ruler. No one had any complaints about him, and all respected him for his decisions.

That wasn't reflected in your fight, though.

When you fought him, he seemed to be detached. Paranoid. Cruel King thought you were going to tear down his kingdom, and no amount of talking deterred his insatiable need to cut you down. You had to physically wrestle the Dagger away from him- not the sensible and just king you expected, but a complete and utter lunatic.

You thought it was the end of it, but it wasn't.

Shedletsky then sent you out to Turitopulis to retrieve the Venomshank from Mayor Thanyiel. On the plane ride there, you decided to go prepared and read up on Turitopulis' culture, nature and residents...just so you knew what you were going to be up against. You didn't want to get blindsided by a seemingly normal ruler again.

Upon reaching there, you realised you were probably a bit too late. You saw Mayor Thanyiel...held hostage by a gorilla, commanded by some dude who looked like some edgy teen. He even spoke just like an edgy teen, too- some of his words seemed a bit distorted, but you could somehow understand his speech as leetspeak.

Maybe the Ice Dagger gave you some of the old King's knowledge.

Regardless, you still had a job to do.

You spoke to people in the town, simply wanting to get your job over and done with so you could return to your timeline as soon as possible. But the more you spoke to the people there the more intrigued you were about the place. Gone was your annoyance pertaining to your job

You traversed through the dense forest, careful to prevent any unwanted encounters. The fauna was quite hostile there, after all.

By the time you finally navigated to Griefer's crib, or whatever that place was called, it was already too late for you. You wanted to resolve the situation peacefully, but by then Griefer had already tied his father to the Venomshank and used him to pull the sword from the stone.

Cue a long fight where you had to battle the Venomshank-wielding male...and even after losing, he stabbed himself with the very sword he tried to kill you with.

It didn't end well for either of you.

While you were severely injured, Griefer's fate was much worse. He got transformed into some plant...spider...hybrid monster thing.

Even after purifying your soul to retrieve the Ghostwalker and defeating some ancient god for the Firebrand, when you went back to Turitopulis, he was still in his plant-like form, if not in an even worse state.

When you checked in with Mayor Thaniyel, he mentioned that not only had Griefer not returned to his usual self, but he was also less responsive as the days passed. Barely reacting to his dad's voice. Barely getting up to eat. It was as if his life was withering away day by day like the plants covering his body were consuming him from the inside...so you knew what you had to do.

After a bit of sailing and a trip to the late Kitchen Wizard, you returned to Turitopulis, some onion ring tart in your hands.

Allegedly, based on the cookbook you found at the heart of the jungle, it was supposed to be some cure for Griefer's condition. It worked, thankfully...but only to some extent.

He still had plant-like features around him, but you thought it made him look cooler.

That was when finally...he opened up to you and agreed to join you on your journey to find the rest of the swords.

He told you everything about himself. He mentioned how he was always curious about the Venomshank, how he heard the voices from it just like Blackrock's king...how it controlled his mind and made him do things he never should've done. He told you about how he'd get yelled at by his father every time he tried to bring up the topic of the Venomshank...and everything in between.

For once, he felt safe. He felt like you were someone he could truly trust, and therefore agreed to aid you in your adventure.

Fortunately for you, Shedletsky had no information to give you regarding the other sword guardians, so in the meantime, you could take a break and explore the new world. Despite all that, though, you enjoyed staying in Turitopulis by Griefer's side, getting to know the community better with each passing day. However, you still wanted to return to the Temple of the Red Sun to train and loot the place...which was how you ended up falling for him.

You let out a choked cough. Blood was starting to flood your throat, and you were just a few hitpoints away from dying. With whatever Special Points you had left, you pulled out one last card from your deck.

"Griefer...? If you're there...somewhere...please, help..."

The being...The Ancients, it called itself, stared down at you, its soulless, unmoving eyes never once leaving your wounded form. Calypso lay before you, crumpled up into a heap. She had passed out trying to protect you, just as how Captain Trotter wanted.

She was loyal to him until the very end.

And even then, her loyalty to him was her downfall.

As The Ancients wound up its arms, preparing for one final strike, you squeezed your eyes shut.

You were already in too much pain to move. You just wanted to die quickly so you could respawn and be freed from whatever agonising pain you were in.

Just as The Ancients lunged forward, ready to take away whatever life you had left, you heard some faint rustling as a familiar figure dropped down in front of you. Two pained grunts could be heard from him as he was struck by the two blows that were meant for you.

"...N0T 0N MY W4TCH, PUNK."

The crowbar-wielding male stood in front of you, protecting you from The Ancients.

You glanced up at him, confusion and shock on your face. You had no idea how he got into the temple and found you in such a short amount of time, but you weren't complaining.

"G...Griefer...? You...actually came to help..."

A weak cough escaped your body as you tried to stand up. Getting bashed in multiple times had done quite a number on you, and you almost fell flat on your face.

"...D0N'T PU5H Y0URS3LF."

He knelt down and held out a hand for you to grab. You gratefully accepted his help and pulled yourself back on your feet. Due to your weakened state, however...you stumbled into him.

Griefer, upon seeing your weakened state, instinctively caught you as your legs gave way, not wanting you to fall. What you didn't expect was for him to do so by pulling you against him so you could put your weight on him instead of on your own legs...which resulted in him tightly hugging you to himself.

"I G0T Y0UR B4CK. L3T'5 PWN TH15 5UCK3R T0G3TH3R."

One thing slowly turned into another, though...and on one moonlit night, Griefer ended up asking you out during a leisurely nighttime stroll. By that point, you were completely smitten by him, so you agreed.

Ever since that day, Griefer treated you like a delicate porcelain doll. He offered to take care of you as you recovered from your injuries, offered to do little things for you and always protected you from whatever was out to get you. Once, he even followed you to The Guru so you could get more training by refighting your own embodiment of hatred. Despite you telling him multiple times that you'd be fine since you'd fought it before and could even respawn, he was determined to follow you so you'd come back safe and sound.

On this day, however, you really didn't feel like training. Your body was sore from the excessive practice you did the previous day, and all you wanted to do was take a break for one day.

So what did Griefer do? He decided to pop over to the Turitopulis' Town Inn you were staying at to pay you a visit and spend some quality time with you.

As you lay in bed, your muscles sore from all the combat you did the previous day, you heard a soft click as the door opened. Griefer stood in the doorway, a small bowl in hand.

"H3Y. (Y/N). I M4D3 Y0U S0M3 S0UP. Y0U 5H0ULD H4V3 S0M3, IT'5 G00D F0R Y0U."

Griefer set the container down on your bedside table and opened it. The smell that wafted out and filled the room was heavenly- it smelt delectable, just like the soup your parents always made for you in the past.

Griefer went to the inn's pantry and grabbed a spoon. He picked up the bowl of soup, scooped up some soup and held it to your mouth.

"D0 H4V3 S0M3, D34R35T...Y0U N33D 1T."

You opened your mouth and let Griefer spoon-feed you the soup. It tasted just as good as it smelled, if not even better. The soup was rich and savoury, and it tasted absolutely heavenly.

You instinctively opened your mouth every time he brought the spoon to your lips, gratefully consuming every bit of soup he fed you.

It tasted like familiarity. It tasted like home. It tasted of the good old times when you were safe and secure in the arms of people you cared for.

Now, you were in a new universe. There were so many new things to see. So many things to appreciate. Someone by your side to truly love.

As Griefer continued feeding you the soup, you had a sudden thought.

"...Griefer...? Could we...cuddle, by any chance?"

He paused, a faint hint of pink spreading across his face. Eventually, he relented, setting the bowl back on the bedside table and crawling under the blanket with you.

"...F1N3. C'M3R3..."

Griefer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. The leaves covering his face and arms tickled a bit, so you squirmed in his grasp to get comfortable.

He buried his face in your shoulder, the leaves on his face brushing against your neck as he lay there, the only sound in the room being the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft breathing from both of you.

"I'V3 W4NT3D T0 D0 TH15 F0R 4 WH1L3...JU5T L13 D0WN H3R3 W1TH Y0U L1K3 TH15. 1'M GL4D 5H3DL3T5KY H45N'T SENT Y0U 0UT T0 F1ND 4N0TH3R 5TUP1D 5W0RD..."

You lay there in bed, too tired to say a word and too comfortable to move. You never knew how nice it was to get spooned by someone you loved until then. As you let out a soft yawn, Griefer chuckled.

"T1R3D? Y0U 5H0ULD SL33P. Y0U'V3 B33N TR41N1NG 4 L0T R3C3NTLY."

You subconsciously caressed some of the vines that snaked down Griefer's arm, silently adoring his new look. You knew that deep down, Griefer was insecure about the new additions...but you liked them anyway.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his hold on you tighten slightly.

"5L33P W3LL, MY L0V3...1'LL 4LW4Y5 PR0T3CT Y0U FR0M WH4T3V3R PUNK TH4T TR135 T0 HURT Y0U."

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and that’s all, fellas! I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll see you guys soon! :D

[fluentmoviequoter]

Flirty

Requested Here!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!wife!reader (no specific characterization)

Summary: Your husband Bruce never stops flirting with you, and everyone, in Gotham and beyond, knows it.

Warnings: fluff! Batboys being Batboys

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | DC Masterlist | Request Info

A/N: Jason O'Mara's Bruce Wayne makes my heart flutter. Especially in this movie (even when he bullies Hal).

“What are they all waiting for?” Jonathan Kent asks his parents. “I thought we were here to raise money for the expansion of the school?” He lowers his voice and looks down to add, “Which is equally boring.”

“Jon, it may seem boring now, but it’s a great cause,” Lois answers, laying her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “And the people waiting…”

“Gotham’s power couple has arrived!” one of the photographers at the door yells.

“Power couple?” Jonathan repeats.

“That would be my parents,” Damian interrupts, stepping out of the shadows and to Jon’s side.

“But, they go everywhere together,” Jonathan points out. “What makes tonight special?”

“We don’t have time to answer that, pal,” Clark says before chuckling.

As Bruce walks through the crowd of paparazzi and reporters with you smiling at his side, Damian and Jon nod at one another. Damian leads Jonathan back the way he came, and they disappear.

Lois leans toward Clark, and he answers, “I know. They’re heading south of the ballroom.”

“No, I mean, yeah, I saw them leave,” Lois murmurs. “But I was going to say I give it five minutes before they start flirting.”

“You must be new here,” Dick jokes as he passes behind them. “It’s been happening since they walked in.”

Clark nods, then whispers, “Twenty bucks says they only stay for an hour.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Lois agrees. “They’ll flirt the whole time, but they’re staying for a while.”

“Lois, Clark,” you call, smiling as you separate yourself from Bruce to greet them. “I’m so glad you could make it! And I love your dress, Lois, that’s such a good color on you.”

Lois gladly accepts your offered hug, glaring at Clark over your shoulder to warn him against talking about their friendly bet again.

“Clark are you here for business or pleasure?” you ask as you step back from Lois.

“Pleasure. Bruce sent a personalized invite. Real ink and all,” Clark answers. “I must say, you’re getting pretty good at his signature.”

“Alfred is a great teacher,” you joke. “I thought you were bringing Jon?”

“We did. He’s with Damian.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if he doesn’t make another appearance before the end of the gala, I’ll bring him home in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Lois replies. “I’m glad they’re getting along.”

“They’ve come a long way,” Clark agrees.

“Like two other heroes I know,” you tease. “I have to go shake some hands with the rich and powerful of Gotham, but we should do dinner soon.”

“We should,” Lois says. “Good luck with the Gothamites.”

“I don’t think she’s the one who needs luck,” Clark interjects.

“Clark, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” you call over your shoulder.

While you approach a table of school board members, Bruce waits at your reserved table alone. His kids have disappeared, as expected, and he’s decided to wait for you.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred calls.

Bruce turns quickly, reluctantly tearing his eyes from you. You’ve been thanking the other donors and dancing with all of the children in attendance, and he has been content to watch you from his table with a smile.

“Yes, Alfred?” Bruce asks.

“Seeing as you’ve made a considerable donation to the charity, perhaps you could discuss your interest in the cause rather than ogling your wife from across the room,” Alfred suggests.

“I think my donation was sizeable enough that I can spare a few minutes to admire my beautiful date.”

“It’s been nearly thirty minutes, Master Bruce. The reporters have begun talking about you.”

“Did they ever stop?” Bruce challenges with a smile. “Yes, Alfred, I will do my duty and rub some elbows.” Bruce stands, buttons his jacket, and adds, “After I dance.”

“I expected no less,” Alfred sighs.

At the entrance, Gotham’s most notorious reporters and paparazzi wait for the gala to end to photograph the glamorous exits and exploit the unglamorous ones.

“I tried to interview Bruce Wayne, but he only talked about his wife,” a reporter laments as he returns from the gala. “Do you think Dick Grayson is still around?”

“Does he ever know why he’s here?” a cameraman points out.

Inside, your socializing smile melts into your genuine, joyful smile as Bruce returns to your side. He has a way of making every night out, every charity dinner, feel like your first date.

“Hey,” he greets, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Wow,” you drawl. “That’s the line you’re going with?”

Bruce shrugs as he explains, “I thought I’d change it up. Besides, you look so beautiful I’m having trouble remembering my usual moves.”

You chuckle, playfully slapping your hand against Bruce’s chest. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now, can I take you home and see that pretty smile for the rest of the night?”

“Tempting. Make it the rest of your life and I’m in.”

Bruce’s arm tightens around you as he turns toward the large double doors opening into the Gotham night. As you leave, over an hour before the end of the event, you don’t see Clark sigh and pass money to Lois. You know Bruce and his moves, but so does everyone else in Gotham. And the Justice League, apparently.

“Mr. Wayne, over here!” an interviewer yells.

Bruce smiles, a close-lipped greeting that would make a less-experienced group run for Metropolis. Bruce slows as he exits the Wayne Enterprises building and gestures for the interviewers and cameras to take turns rather than yell over one another.

“What can you tell us about the economic impact of the proposed Wayne Enterprises expansion?” the interviewer closest to Bruce asks.

Bruce nods at the question, but his eyes are locked on something across the street. As he recites the rehearsed stats, he never looks at the man before him or the cameras.

“What’s he looking at?” someone whispers.

“His wife is waiting across the street,” a cameraman answers. “We don’t have much time before he runs to meet her.”

“You and your wife left last night’s charity gala early,” Vicki Vale begins. “Can we trust that the board still has your support?”

“The children of Gotham have our support,” Bruce answers, fighting his growing smile as you wave to him. “Whatever group or donations we have to go through to help them, we will do it. But at the end of the day, the Gotham school board is not who my wife and I are choosing to help. It is the children. Excuse me.”

The crowd splits, creating a clear path for Bruce to reach the sidewalk before he crosses the street to greet you. You hear a few camera shutters as he hugs you, but Alfred pulls the oversized town car between you and the paparazzi before Bruce steps back. With the cameras at his back blocked, Bruce leans in and kisses you, holding eye contact before and after the kiss.

“You could’ve looked at the people you were talking to, you know,” you tease quietly.

“And miss a moment in your pretty eyes?” Bruce flirts. “As long as you’re here, you’re home, and I’m going to be looking in those windows.”

You feel your neck and cheeks warming, but Bruce holds your chin gently to keep his eyes on yours. After a moment, he releases your face to take your hand instead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I completely forgot to tell you how radiant you look today.”

In the car, you smile and squeeze Bruce’s hand. You’ll never get used to his flirting and never stop being affected by him. Which is exactly what Bruce wants.

“Pretty and smart.” Bruce tuts and shakes his head before he adds, “It’s not fair.”

“Sure, that’s what’s not fair.”

“There’s my handsome husband,” you murmur as Bruce removes his cowl.

“And there’s my beautiful wife,” he replies, extending his arm toward you. “I missed you.”

“We were only on patrol for an hour, Father,” Damian tuts. “Perhaps you should see someone for your dependence on her.”

“Hey, kid, normal people just say, ‘get a room,’” Jason points out. “Not that the Ra’s-style monologue isn’t riveting.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, but when you take his hand, he smiles and pulls you against his side. As close as physically possible, you lean against him and watch his profile as he reviews the cameras from the night’s patrol.

“Must have been quiet if you’re back after an hour,” you muse.

“Killer Croc was taking a nap under the manhole outside Iceberg Lounge, but other than that, our usual clients seemed to be otherwise engaged,” Dick explains.

Bruce turns toward you and whispers, “And I missed you, so I rushed them a bit.”

You smile and hook your fingers in the neck of Bruce’s suit. Behind him, the boys groan and turn away. They love you, but Bruce’s constant flirting with you gets to them. You’ve been told to get a room more times than you can count in the last week alone. Damian’s monologues are a good break, you think.

“I love your outfit,” Bruce teases softly, glancing down at your worn Gotham Academy sweatpants and one of his shirts.

“I asked Alfred if he had any spandex left over, but this was the best he could do,” you respond.

“All of the spandex has been earmarked by Dick,” Jason says behind you. “Speaking of which, I need to leave.”

“How is that a segue way?” Dick questions loudly.

“We should get going, too,” Bruce tells you. He kisses your jawline and murmurs, “Or are my clothes good enough for you?”

“There’s no substitute for you,” you flirt, ignoring the faux retching sounds your boys are making behind you.

“Goodnight, boys,” you call as Bruce lifts you into a bridal carry.

“Goodnight!” they reply together.

“Try not to scare her away before morning, Father,” Damian adds.

“Where’s Ma?” Jason asks as he enters the manor. “I’m not staying if she’s not here.”

Bruce doesn’t look away from the television screen displaying the three final choices for movie night as he answers, “She’s on the second floor, heading to the stairs. She’ll be right down.”

“How does he do that?” Jason murmurs.

“He probably chipped her,” Dick answers under his breath.

“Or he’s memorized her footsteps and weight shift patterns,” Damian proposes.

“Have you?” Dick asks.

Damian shrugs and takes his place at the end of the couch, curling up to Titus for family movie night.

“I found it!” you cheer as you return. “I knew I bought more candy.”

Bruce looks up at your voice and smiles while his eyes soften. It’s a visible reaction, a happiness that blooms deep within him at your return.

“Good,” Bruce replies as you sit beside him. “Glad you’re back.”

“I was gone for two minutes,” you point out, passing Jason and Dick their favorite snacks.

“It was long enough.”

You shake your head lovingly and shift closer to Bruce when the movie begins. You’re in your home, with your kids, and sitting with the love of your life. Even when Bruce interrupts the movie to whisper compliments in your ear and draws random shapes against any exposed skin he can reach, there’s nowhere else you want to be.

“Mrs. Wayne,” a woman says as she nears you. “So odd seeing you here. And… in, well, that.”

You smile and look away from the different colored yarn. Dressed in your favorite pants and one of Bruce’s dress shirts tied up to fit you better, you are more interested in shopping at your favorite hobby store than discussing anything about your husband, love life, or style.

“Mrs. Marshall,” you reply, noticing the surprise she fails to mask when you remember her name. “This is my favorite store, and I was running low on some things.”

She hums, and two more women approach behind her, slowing when they notice you.

“Sweetheart,” Bruce murmurs behind you. He looks up from the items in his hands and adds, “Ladies.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Mrs. Marshall says, suddenly sounding breathless. “It’s wonderful to see you. I wasn’t aware that you shopped locally.”

“Yes, well, small businesses are the heart of our economy,” he agrees, his arm pressed to your back. “And, of course, my wife has hobbies, and this is the best place I’ve found to get her everything she needs.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Speaking of…” Bruce turns to you and extends his hands. “Is this the brand of hooks you were looking for?”

“Ooh, yes!” you cheer, running your fingers over one of the cases. “I don’t know if I can choose, though. I need this one-“ you point to a specific item in the set to your left – “but the other hooks have such nice grips.”

Bruce nods once and places them both in your small cart. You grip his arm in thanks and smile at him before remembering you have an audience.

“Mr. Wayne, do you have any hobbies?” one of Mrs. Marshall’s friends asks.

“I do,” he answers, rubbing his hand along your back. “But I enjoy watching my wife and her hobbies more than anything I could try.”

“That’s sweet,” Mrs. Marshall murmurs. “Well, we must be off. Perhaps we’ll see you at the next gala. Again, Mrs. Wayne, nice to see you, and what an… interesting outfit.”

You smile and watch them turn off the aisle where you stand before you turn to Bruce. “I don’t think she liked your shirt.”

“I don’t think she liked how good you look in it,” Bruce argues, placing his hands on either side of your waist.

You place your hands on his shoulders and shake your head. “Do you make them jealous on purpose?”

“I don’t do anything to or for them on purpose. You’re the only one I have the time or the eyes for.”

“Romantic.” You rise to your tiptoes and peck Bruce’s lips quickly. “Are you sure I can get both sets?”

Bruce maneuvers you to stand between him and the cart handle, then drops his chin to your shoulder. “We can buy the whole store.”

“I thought small businesses were the backbone of this city?” you tease, leaning back against him.

“The heart of the economy,” Bruce corrects. “But I’d keep the staff on.”

“Oh, well, when you say it that way.”

“I wasn’t aware that Gotham had a wildlife conservatory,” Clark says, tucked into a corner away from the gala.

“We don’t,” Bruce answers. “Apparently certain members of our city government think we need one.”

“And you support that?”

“Off the record?” Clark nods, and Bruce replies, “Not a bit.”

“Then why are we here? Why am I here?”

“You have a day job. And my wife was invited to speak on behalf of the local wildlife foundation.”

“Which is different than the conservatory team?”

“Clark, honey, don’t try to understand how Gotham works,” Lois encourages as she passes him a glass.

“Yes, they’re separate,” Bruce explains. “She expressed the foundation’s concern and assured them that they’d receive no commendation or donation…”

“So, you’re waiting for her to come back to leave?” Lois guesses.

“Uh, excuse me,” Bruce mumbles. He straightens and adds, “I need to go win over the beautiful woman in the red dress.”

“You wanna get out of here, too?” Lois asks Clark. His eyes widen as he nods, and after Lois sets their glasses aside, they step back into a hallway and seem to disappear in a blur.

Someone runs into you, their side bumping against your hip. When you look over your shoulder and see Bruce looking at your lips, you turn slightly to hit him with your hip in retaliation. The moment you lean toward him, Bruce wraps his arm around your waist, spins you against his chest, then dips you. Your arms loop around his neck quickly, but you laugh when you realize what he’s done.

“You’re in a good mood,” you murmur as he stands, holding you against his chest.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Bruce compliments.

“Bruce, I love you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Knock it off,” Bruce chides playfully. “Flirting is my thing.”

You lean forward, and just before your lips meet, you argue, “And you’re mine.”

Bruce closes the distance, holding your waist carefully as he holds you close and moves with you. Camera shutters echo behind you, several people clap, and you hear your Damian turn around quickly.

Bruce Wayne loves you; he will never stop flirting with you, and all of Gotham knows it. Especially when Vicki Vale’s article Gotham’s Power Couple is Only Growing in Power and Influence is printed on every front page the following morning.

[mercurial-chuckles]

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Updated: January 25, 2025

Indulge Away!

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Steve jealous of Peter Quill flirting with you.

Captain's Boinking Escapades

Guess what Tony has found!

Crimson Tranquility

There is more to your husband than meets the eye.

Giddy Affairs

A congressman drabble!

On the qui vive

A fluffy drabble (ft. mafia!Bucky)

Yield to me

A fluffy drabble (ft. adventurous Alpine)

Strings

Bucky's housewife kink gets activated!

Pluvial Kisses!

Tooth rotting fluff, Bucky being the absolute fuckin dream of a man! *heavy sigh*

Catharsis

Summary to be drafted

The Time Thor Third-Wheeled

The title sums about it!

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

I really need to draft a summary for this. :D

Enlivened Mornings

Summary to be drafted

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Dad!Bucky fic set in the Sappy Sunday Thought universe.

Your Restive Man

This is a simple fluffy blurb. Clingy Bucky who cannot stay apart from you.

Stranded & Succored

You were having a bad day and decided to drive to calm your nerves. However, you get stranded in the middle of nowhere with no phone. And this tall, gorgeous man is pulling up in his truck and claiming your heart and body.

Wish Come True

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction challenge

Stucky x Reader | Steve x Reader x Bucky

Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender Vignettes

Collection of oneshots set in a universe.

Unwaveringly Homebound

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction Challenge

I met them, and now I'm their queen

Angsty fluff & confessions to get it off their chest before the new year starts.

Half-baked, damn

Easy peasy, sweetheart. They’d said. It’s for the people. They’d said.

Permanence (F!Reader version)

Love transcends time.

Permanence (OFC version)

Love transcends time.

Sneaky & Sly

A blue hoodie, a sly man, and domesticated bliss

Blissful Summer Bruises

Some domesticated bliss with two hot super soldiers

The Pantry Affairs

A day in your life with two extremely wonderful and protective men

The Curious Affairs of Mr. Holmes

Waltz Into My Heart

This is the chaos corner. I'm still figuring out an efficient way to organize these. So, don't mind the mumble jumble.

Flash Fiction Challenge

Weeklong Thingamajig

SMUTTY SEPTEMBER FEST

ASKS

Alpha Steve

Blissful Adventures of Mr. Softly Stern & Mr. Toughly Tender

Bucky QuotesJust Wondering 01 Wanna be Tagged?

[filiazpink]

HEYYYY IM THE GIRL FROM THE COMMENT SECTION OF YOUR ORION AND D-16 AND THEIR SUPERIOR FIC!!! i just wanted to let you know it was adorable and that if it’s alright with you i would love to see a part two! 💕💕💕

🩷"INFATUATED"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 - part 2

warnings: MAJOR transformers one spoilers, sentinel prime likes the reader too HELP, my cutie patootie oc being mentioned once, darkwing being darkwing electric boogaloo, cheesy stuff once again

summary: takes place during the iacon 5000, and a bit of the aftermath that follows. orion's crush is still very obvious and d-16 is warming up to you.

a/n: SO MANY NOTES ON PART 1?? TYSM EVERYONE 💗💗💗💗 and also a round of applause to this lovely requester here sending the ask that motivated me to make a part 2 :3 sorry it took so long i was busy with art commissions and writing my dark deception fic :( hopefully this will live up to the expectations of the 30 ppl that sent me in inbox to make a part 2 !! if you guys want a part 3 with even more stuff, lemme know in the inbox! it would be kinda fun to make a mini series with this idea for the whole movie !! ENJOY !!!

word count: 1740

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

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somehow, you managed to gain one of the best spots in iacon to watch the race take place.

well, it was easy to know why.

sentinel prime himself considered you as one of ‘his closest friend’, so he reserved a special seat just for you: right next to him.

best seat in the house.

it was a very overwhelming experience overall, with cameras all pointed towards you and THE sentinel prime, the fact that you were simply next to the savior of iacon, the slight confusion you had for what you and sentinel were. i mean, you only spoke to him professionally, and those were rare occasions. surely, he met thousands of new bots everyday, yet he remembered you of all bots. 

but all of that couldn’t compare to the dread that took over your entire body as soon as you heard sentinel utter the following:

“i’m sorry- are those miners in the race?” the two of you turned around to the giant screen to see that, indeed, there were cogless bots participating in the race.

and not just any cogless bots, bots from your sector!

and not just bots from your sector, it was those two charming bots orion pax and d-16!

your optics widened at the revelation, on the point of transforming to go and stop them before they get damaged beyond repair but sentinel held you back.

“hey- hey, what are you doing??” he mumbled, looking back at the cameras every few seconds to make sure they weren’t focused on him.

“those are workers from my sector!! i-i know them, i have to sto-”

“come on, (y/n), relax! they’ll be fine! besides, think of the inspirational boost it’ll give the other miners if they do win. they’ll be delighted.” he tried coaxing you into relaxing, going so far as to gently rub your shoulder in an attempt at comforting you but you had none of it.

“this is a first in iacon 5000 history!”

“oh primus, please, please, please keep them alive!,,,”

“how are they going to survive?”

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eventually, the cameras couldn’t pick up feed on the tunnel that the majority of the racers, including orion and d-16, were in. the thought of finding them crushed or in worse condition sickened you. with a trembling hand, you quickly gripped onto sentinel’s, who couldn’t help but look smug at your reaction.

“they’ll be okay,,, right?!” you asked him and the prime sighed.

“don’t worry. if they end up hurt, we’ll just send them to medbay-”

“i don’t believe it! the miners take down darkwing!”

the crowd went wild at the display, somehow getting louder than it already was. the femme and the prime watched in astonishment as the miners went from last place to third place in such a short amount of time. 

well, now you knew that darkwing was going to complain about that to you for the rest of the work cycle.

you let go of the blue and golden bot’s hand (much to his very visible disappointment) to place it over your mouth. your optics shined in absolute amazement, watching the main screen showing orion and d-16 looking more and more hopeful. 

“OHH, MINERS!” darkwing literally roared at them, his fists clenching in total anger. 

“great effort, darkwing!” orion attempted to cheer on darkwing for his efforts, but deep down, he knew once this was over, he and his companion were royally fucked.

“t-that worked! it actually worked! you think (y/n) saw all that?!” d-16 beamed, getting more and more excited at the thought of you watching them- watching him win the race.

“i’m sure she’s watching! she’ll be so proud of us!”

after passing the magnetic obstacle course tunnel (much to your relief, poor bots would have been crushed beyond repair), you felt like your body couldn’t handle all the amount of excitement, especially with the announcer going:

“a four-bot pile-up in the magnetic tunnel and the two miners are now in first position! this is UNBELIEVABLE!”

the speechless prime turned around, facing the finish line, pulling you alongside to observe. 

from the corner of his optic, he watched your reactions with envy. you never reacted that way whenever he showed up to your office unprompted.

were those two cog-less bots really that important when he’s here?

however, his train of thoughts was interrupted as a shattered piece from a nearly crushed racer hit d-16 from behind, making the grey bot trip and fracture his leg. you gasped at the outcome, praying they were still close enough to make it.

orion reached for d-16, pulling him up and slinging him onto his back, slowly making his way to the finish line. 

everyone was losing it, including sentinel, who was on the edge of his seat. will they make it in time? 

even the announcer seemed to be overly excited!

orion quickly looked up to your radiant face, feeling another rush of energy flow through him simply by seeing your wonderstruck expression. by the allspark, you looked glorious with all the different lights shining onto your armour.

“one miner is now carrying the other, mere steps from the finish line in the most amazing, sensational, dramatic, heart-rending, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-”

and all of a sudden, all of it was cut short as a white and cyan mech ran into the smaller bots, knocking them back down. the mech transformers and slid across the finish line, throwing her fists in the air.

“WE HAVE A WINNERRR!! CHROMIA COMES FROM BEHIND TO TAKE THE PRIZE! talk about an iacon 5000 for the ages!”

your excitement died down. sure, you were happy for chromia, she won fair and square, but,,,

you sighed as you watched every other surviving racer fly past the two miners, still trying to see the small mechs as sentinel let out a chuckle, dragging you away with him to congratulate the winner.

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“mmh, they should be right here, miss.”

“thank you, mekastat.”

the pale red and pink bot nodded at you with a courteous smile, walking away from the medbay you were informed that orion and d-16 were in. you let out a long sigh, clearing your throat and before you could knock at the door, you managed to overhear the ongoing conversation.

“we are SO screwed!” you could distinguish d-16’s frustrated voice through the commotion, followed by orion’s more gentle tone:

“i thought you weren’t talking to me,,,”

“hey, look, i know it's all a big joke to you, but not me! i was paying my dues. i was going places and now they're going to bust me down- i don't even know how many tiers-”

“d, i’m sorry-”

“A-AND NOT JUST THAT! SHE SAW IT ALL HAPPEN! SHE,,, she saw everything.” she? no, that doesn’t matter. your curiosity will be your downfall.

with a quick knock, their conversation was cut short as you quietly walked in. orion immediately sat up straight, his optics wide open. a blush (that you assumed was out of embarrassment) decorated his face. d-16, however, didn’t even look you in the eye, his head hunched over in shame.

“hi.”

they waited for any form of reprimand from you, but since you simply stared back at them as to wait for them to speak, orion decided to be the first to break the ice.

“,,, i’m so sorry, (y/n), i was the one to s-suggest the idea of us participating. demote me but not d-16, i practically dragged him along into this.” d-16 turned his head just a little bit at his friend, the tension in his yellow optics leaving just a tad bit.

you thought for a while, looking away and missed the way that even in such a situation where you were supposed to, yes, reprimand them, orion looked up at you like you hung the moon and the stars combined. even in the poor lighting the room had, your armour still shined in a hypnotizing way. at least, in orion’s eyes.

“i should punish you for breaking protocol like this.”

“we know,,,” “but.” you got down on your knees, still towering over the miners, and with a small and gracious smile, you said: “i won’t. besides, even if you lost, that was still the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.”

hearing that made d-16’s helm rise back up to stare at you with a bewildered expression, matching his friend. 

“really??”

you then let out a small giggle and gave them a bigger smile, which totally didn’t make the two smaller bots swoon. “it was amazing! you were both so fast, and you managed to take down darkwing?? he’s never going to hear the end of it! do you know how long he’s been training for this day and he was beaten by you two, who never trained for this type of action?!”

they’ve never seen you this excited, just the sight made up for the fact that they had lost and possibly humiliated themselves to millions of cybertronians. 

“if anything, if sentinel doesn’t end up giving you guys a prize for making it this far, i’d think he’d be wasting an opportunity to celebrate true racers!” 

“oh- wait! sentinel! what’s he going to do with us??” asked d-16, nearly getting up from the table, stress once more filling his processors. 

your excitement died down at the mention of his name. oh, right. him.

“um, i could try to convince him to not do anything drastic! he considers me a friend of his, apparently.”

“that won’t be necessary.” another femme’s voice droned out, one that you immediately recognized. 

“i’ll take it from here, (y/n). head back to your post.” airachnid ordered, stepping aside for you to leave. you turned your helm to the miners and waved goodbye, still watching them as you walked away until they were no longer in sight.

as you were about to leave the building, you bumped into darkwing, who despite not having visible facial features, you could tell with the way he was walking that he was still absolutely infuriated.

“darkwing,,,?” you asked and in response, he swiftly turned around, grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed:

“I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND VALUED BOT IN MY LIFE.” and so he power walked into the hospital, leaving you utterly confused.

,,,

what.

wait why was he going in the hospital?

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🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

[sanjisleggy]

three hundred sonnets (black leg sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort 

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

i.

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii. 

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago. 

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.” 

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

v. 

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected. 

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you. 

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much. 

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch. 

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.” 

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Paratroopers

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Do you understand your orders?”

Vin’all nodded, but still looked skeptical.

“I do, but may I ask a question?”

His commander motioned for him to continue.

“What does the empire gain from this subterfuge?”

Vin’all flipped the pages of his orders. “Attaching me to their special forces will place me under great observation making any attempts at espionage difficult, if not impossible.”

“You are correct in that assumption.”

He motioned for Vin’all to take a seat before continuing. “Your objective priority is to observe the observers, if that makes sense, rather than gather critical intel. We wish to see how they react to better prepare for future operations.”

“So I am a sacrificial Ghi-ga?” Vin’all could not hide the disgust from his voice.

“Yes.”

Whatever Vin’all had been expecting, his commander’s words were not on the list.

“While we encourage you to gather as much information from them as you can, you are ordered to not push them to the point they feel the need to neutralize you.”

“Even if I am alongside these special forces, what critical information do you think they have access too?”

His commander shrugged. “By all accounts this is one of their top military units in the Terran military, which means they are given detailed briefings and access to critically sensitive information for mission parameters.”

“Fine.” Vin’all said, his final hope of getting out of this farce of a mission evaporating before his eyes. “What is the name of their detachment?”

The commander looked at the file, their mouth moving silently as they struggled to pronounce the terran words before giving up.

“They’re called “Sky Forces”, or something there abouts.” --------------------------------------

“Take a long hard look at yourself, because you will not survive this jump.”

Vin’all was not sure if the human leader was joking or not, but leaned towards the latter given how serious the human lieutenant was acting.

“This drop will break you. That is not an assumption, nor a figure of speech, but a fact.”

The dropship jostled side to side as it descended through the atmosphere. It carried thirty humans inside, not counting Vin’all who was accompanying them on their mission to infiltrate a Grenthen Fortress protecting a prime landing site for the rest of the relief force.

Every one of them stood silently facing the Lieutenant at the closed ramp giving a pre-battle speech.

“The moment you step out of this craft,” the human continued, “the person you are now ceases to exist, and the person you are meant to be will be waiting on the ground.”

The light at the back of the craft started flashing red and the lieutenant donned their helmet.

“Make them proud of who you once were.”

 With that the light shifted to a bright green and the ramp retracted into the vehicle. Vin’all looked out at the night sky of the world below. The stars flickered between the clouds like gems of a riverbed as the other dropships of the human battalion formed up around him. It felt like he could live in this moment for an eternity.  The first shrapnel round detonating outside the craft however snapped him back to the present.

As if the floodgates of hell had opened soon the entire space around the dropship was awash with bursting shrapnel rounds. A nearby dropship took a shell to the cockpit before it detonated inside the confined space, reducing it a headless bird spinning out of control as the front was consumed by flames.

It was too much for Vin’all to take in as his eyes darted left and right, the miasma of chaos unfolding before him almost too much to handle let alone function in. Yet when he turned to see the humans he was sent to spy on none of them showed any such fear. No, they showed something else as one by one they leapt from the dropship and descended upon the world below like vengeful angels of their history.

Anticipation.

[luveline]

Would you write for Spencer with shy!reader? I feel like they'd be so cute together, neither of them would feel confident enough to make the first move until the team pushes them together probably

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

"Hi," Spencer says in a whisper. 

You look up, extremely relieved to see him, even if your tongue ties into tight knots whenever he's around. "Hi, Spencer. Is it only you?" 

Spencer takes the empty seat beside you. Your entire row at the back of the theatre is a line of unbroken, crimson velveteen, not a friend in sight.

"Yeah, I'm…" His lips quirk into a confused pout. "Not really sure where Garcia is. I was supposed to meet her on the way." 

"I was supposed to give Emily a ride, but she said Derek's bringing her instead." You rub your lips together, worried for your friends and feeling sorry for yourself; being alone with Spencer is agony, you like him that much. Sheepish, you hold out your popcorn bucket. "Popcorn?" 

It's huge to account for Emily and her light fingers. Spencer laughs under his breath, hurrying out of his jacket to take a handful. "Think you'll have enough?" he teases. 

You tuck your arms in tight from the rests so as not to touch him. His phone pings, drawing his bright eyed smile down to his lap. He clicks through the page and then leans over to show you what he's been sent. 

Hey garcia, I'm outside your apartment. :) 7:32PM

Spencer!! Going to be late!! Go without me, I'll catch up! <3 :) 7:33PM

I'm heading into the movies now, unless you want me to wait? 7:46PM

No, Y/N's in there go find her and save our seats!! 7:46PM

Then, another from Garcia. 

Change of plans Spencer, I can't come anymore Kevin threw out his back!! Give Y/N a hug for me :D. 8:09PM

You'll miss Penelope, but surely Derek and Emily are on their way. You frown at Spencer, as if to say, That sucks. The lights go down and the trailers start rolling, and things aren't as awkward as you imagined. Spencer whispers half facts and half jokes with his face inclined to yours, his breath warm where it kisses your ear. You giggle at him and, with startled pleasure, realise that anyone looking might think you were on a date. It's shameful how much you like that hypothetical. 

Your phone dings in your pocket. 

hey babe, me n Derek got waylaid by two hot blondes. be there as soon as we can ♡ 7:56PM

You're not nearly as scared to receive it as you thought. "Spence," you whisper, showing him your phone. 

He snorts. "Typical. Well, we'll be alright without them, yeah? I'll go get us some drinks and stuff before the movie starts." You dig for your purse, Spencer waves his hand. "I got it." 

He gets your favourite. You don't even have to tell him what you want. Your hands touch as he passes you your drink. You're about to say thanks, but the screen turns black before the movie title and age rating fills the screen. 

It only takes Spencer a solid forty minutes to work up the courage to take your hand. Eyes pinned to the screen, you let your fingers relax under his, his palm to the back of your hand and his fingers twining between yours. 

He leans over, and you think for sure he has a fact to tell you, some tidbit about the movie or how it was made. "Is this okay?" he whispers. You can hardly hear him. 

You turn your face, meeting his eyes in the dark. "Yeah. It's okay." 

He smiles (dreamily, so dreamily) and turns back to the movie. You do the same, the two of you wearing twin grins, his hand a steadying warmth. His thumb rubs the side of your pinky finger softly. 

From a row much further down, Emily hisses. "It's my turn with the binoculars." 

"They're holding hands!" Penelope croons. 

Derek looks up from the mouthful of nachos he'd been enjoying. "What? Let me see?" he says, snatching the binoculars from Penelope's hand.

"Twenty dollars says they kiss by the end of the night." 

"As if." 

"It's my turn!" 

[gh0stly-mp3]

Faz um headcannons de um male!reader!Bllk player aonde o reader não é tão agressivo na maioria das partidas mas quando irritado começa a agir que nem um monstro? Pode ser um headcannon geral com os times do NEL

Nunca pensei que iria ver um Br q escreve Bllk x m!reader, principalmente aqui no Tumblr 😭😭 amei teus trabalhos, continue ;DD

Mto mto obg! Tô muito feliz q meu primeiro pedido veio de um BR ♡ - Espero q goste! Pelo q entendi vc sabe inglês, mas se quiser a versão em pt-br, só me mandar msg ou outro pedido :D

(Thank u so much! Im really happy that my first request was made by a brazillian ♡ - I hope you'll like it! From what I understand you know English, but if you want the br version, just send me a message or other request :D)

Rage burst -> NEL hcs

neo egoist league teams x bllk male!reader

synopsis: you, a calm and collected player, suddenly have an outburst and get really angry

tags: bllk characters reactions, headcanons, NEL arc, soccer rage, calm to angry reader

warnings: manga spoilers, mature language, suggestive comments, pet names (kiddo, good boy, etc)

a/n: hey! requests are open! (if you speak the language you can send the request in pt, but i"ll do it in english :D)

masterlist.

Hcs scenario

The game was intense, the ball switching sides between the two teams at an impressive speed. Your team was holding up, but it seemed to feel the pressure of the match. You were on the field, with your usual calm expression, absorbing every move.

Then, at some point, you were knocked down hard by one of your opponents. It wasn’t something too serious, but you, usually so calm, got up with a different expression, clearly angry at this dirty move.

The anger in your eyes was something new, something no one would want to face. The opponents were tense, trying to organize their defense as you regained the ball, but the speed at which you advanced was unimaginable.

Finally, with a strong and accurate shot, you sent the ball straight into the goal, beating the entire defense and stopping only in the net.

You simply looked at the field, the anger still pulsing in your chest, but with a smile subtly appearing. When you let go, there were no limits to what could happen. And this time, it was for the victory.

Bastard München

Noa was observing the pace of your run with a serious expression. "This is what we need." - He thought, clearly satisfied with the burst of energy you brought to the team after your goal.

Isagi's eyes widened; the last thing he would have considered in his plan was you getting angry. But soon, a sense of satisfaction took over his face, along with a touch of curiosity. He approached and said, - "You never told me you had that kind of strength in you, I'm impressed!"

Yukimiya quickly joined you and let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on Isagi's shoulder. "He's good even when he's angry. Now, let's see how far this rage can take him."

"Yeah, I really liked the way you acted, it was a great goal" - Hiori commented, showing no surprise, but with a slight admiration.

The rest of the players were also slightly surprised, especially Ness and Kurona. They had never seen you lose your temper like that. They knew you were a composed player, but that fierce anger was something they never imagined seeing.

At last, Kaiser and Kunigami remained silent, but Kaiser looked at the scene with a smirk. "Now, that's what I call attitude" - He thought, enjoying the aggression radiating from you.

FC Barcha

The whole team cheers as they watch your goal! Both Bachira and Lavinho break into wide smiles when they see you in action. Bachira runs to you after the goal and grabs you, celebrating. - "Yippie! I didn't know you could get that angry! That was amazing!"

Meanwhile, Otoya, noticing your aggressive movement, runs along the sideline to keep up with your play. He also celebrated when he saw you score, and soon after ran over to congratulate you.

"Caralho [fuck]! That's ma boy!" - Lavinho shouted, he was really surprised, after all, he didn’t expect this from you, always so calm and composed. It was a great surprise! The whole FC Barcha team would be very warm in celebrating your goal.

Paris X Gen

The team wasn't too surprised, except for Shidou and Charles, who were extremely excited by your sudden burst of anger! - "Wow! So that idiot can have explosions! I like that~" - Shidou exclaimed.

Karasu immediately flashed a sly grin and repositioned himself to get involved in your play, while trying to figure out what you were thinking. Loki also smiled, but this time it was more of an "I knew it" kind of smile.

Charles and Shidou were the ones who celebrated your goal the most, lifting you up and shouting nonsense like two idiots. - "Yippie! Do that again, ya?" - Charles shouted.

Manshine City

Chris was the first to comment: "That was awesome! You really got those legs working, huh? Everyone, take notes!" - examining which muscles were used and, of course, turned to the cameras of BLTV, the rest of the team was stunned.

Chigiri had tried to follow up on your attack, in vain. - "Good boy! But I'm still faster than you" - He could only congratulate your attention to the field, which didn't let your speed back down while crossing through the flock of enemy players. He was amazed.

But even more were Reo and Nagi. They chit-chatted away from you, but their wide eyes didn't hide a thing: the shock was a lot. Reo studied your movements to later repeat such beautiful agression, and Nagi thought how - or even if - he could take a pass from you.

Ubers

Your sudden disattachment to the "teamwork" ideals made Snuffy initially worried, but that wasn't all that he payed attention to. Your anger was evident. He came to you, put a hand on your shoulder and asked: - "Are you alright, kiddo?" - and then, you nodded. He seemed to get the mensage, and was happy to see your potential in action.

"Tsch...Not bad." - Barou said, with a grin. He seemed a bit jealous of such a violent goal, but also satisfied. Lorenzo, on the other hand, didn't say anything, but was clearly paying attention to the entire play. Maybe, he found an even stronger spark of strenght in you.

Aiku cheered for you, messing you hair a bit. He was surprised, as was everyone else. In a rare momento, you could see Niko's expression behind the hair. A mixture of shock, fear and excitement. If you were on the enemy team, you would have been a huge problem. But here, you could be one of the Ubers' secret surprises.

[tinytownn]

stuck in the trees – one-shot[?]

[neighbor!firefighter!]portgas d. ace x f!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: based off of this request...

content: lotta flirting from ace, possible mini series??, cute lil blurb, no use of y/n

leave all requests here…

a/n: [UNEDITED] helloooo!! finally got back into writing after finals kicked my ass so sorry for the delay :(( i hope you guys enjoy and i have a couple ideas for two more parts of this so i may poll it soon??

—

“Tofu!” you shouted, running down the sidewalk. “C’mon, boy! Where’d you go?”

It had been almost ten embarrassing minutes of you parading up and down the street looking for your lost cat. A package had gotten delivered to your house, one you had been anticipating for weeks. It was a large box, one wide enough to create an awkward hold, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Or at least you thought.

With the rickety screen door being held open by your ankle, your balance was already off as you swayed back and forth. The rest of your body was leaned forward, fingers grasping the edges of cardboard. You couldn’t even get the box off the ground.

Before you could admit defeat however, your mischievous cat, Tofu, decided to make a break for it.

It all happened so fast: he skittered through your legs, a white ball of fluff, as he scurried down the street.

The door slammed shut behind you and the corner of the box you had lifted thudded to the ground. Your bare feet burned against the pavement, but you didn’t let that stop your pursuit. 

Only a few seconds had passed, but Tofu was already out of sight.

“You’ve got to me kidding me…” you muttered, studying each yard as you passed.

Tofu had a habit of listening to his hunting instinct despite the fact he’s lived off canned meals his whole life. So, when you heard the familiar hiss and rustling of leaves, you knew you only had moments before he was up in a tree.

Darting off into the surrounding woods, pinecones and loose sticks jabbed your feet, but you barely noticed. All you could hear was Tofu’s distressed mewling.

There he was—clumsily perched on a tree branch, just out of reach.

“No treats for a month you stupid furball,” you huffed, stomping to the base of the tree.

Latching onto the nearest branch, you yelped as your feet scraped against the jagged bark. The cuts in your feet from chasing Tofu around, plus the searing hot pavement practically melting your skin, sent you flying backwards, your grip on the branch not enough to support you.

“Shit!”

Eyes shut tight, you braced for impact, picturing your clueless cat staring at you from above. But the collision never came. Instead, two warm arms–almost warmer than the sun beating down on you–wrapped around your waist, pulling you into their unclothed chest. 

You gasped, your eyes fluttering open in shock.

“Looked like you needed a little help.” 

The muscular arms of the shirtless stranger propped you back up on your feet, his touch lingering slightly on your waist. Your gaze met his–the lopsided grin, dotted freckles, intense eyes–an immediate heat rising to your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment of how you probably looked flailing off the tree, or simply from just how hot this man was–in temperature and in looks. 

Running your hands across your shirt, brushing off any dirt, you smiled up at him. “I- uh yeah…thank you for catching me,” you said sheepishly. “Looks like climbing trees isn't my thing.”

“Might help if you had shoes,” he chuckled, nudging off his boots and kicking them toward you. “How are you not melting out here?”

“I kinda am,” you admitted, pushing the boots back. “But no way- I can’t take your shoes! What about your feet?”

He clicked his tongue, crouching down on one knee in front of you–the motion made you blush.

“Not taking, just borrowing.” He met your gaze, taking a quick, hesitant glance, before taking your ankle in a gentle hold. “Besides, I like the heat.”

You scoffed, unable to hold the stranger’s gaze while he tightly tied the oversized boots around your ankles. “You’ve got to be crazy, it’s like a hundred degrees.”

“Not hot enough,” he teased.

You stole a glance. He looked built for summer–dark shorts tightened to his waist with an orange cloth belt, his toes wiggling through his bright, matching socks, and a chunky, red beaded necklace sat strung across his collarbone. And although the sun beat down on his tattooed skin, not a drop of sweat clung to him.

He patted your knee, signaling he was done fastening the shoes, and finally you met his unwavering stare. It wasn’t threatening or scary, just intense–enticing even. Something too personal for just a stranger.

You opened your mouth to say something, words getting caught in your throat at his lingering touch. Through a tense silence, you both stared, unable to speak, until a whining cry from Tofu rang out from above.

With a gasp, you turned back towards the tree, completely having forgotten your original point of being there.

“Shit, Tofu! I completely forgot!” You turned towards the man frantically, eyes wide. “My cat got out, I was gonna try and climb up to get him but…”

“But you’re not the best at climbing trees?” he chuckled, glancing up to the cloud of fluff in the tree.

You shook your head, scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah…and I don’t even own a ladder. Should I call the fire department? They do that kind of stuff, right?”

“We get calls like that all the time,” he said, already jumping to grab the first branch. “Doesn’t look too high. I’ve got this.”

You raised a brow. “We?”

The stranger was already hurling himself around the first branch, his toes curling around the bark as he maneuvered his way upwards–much more gracefully than you had before. His chest heaved and the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed and flexed underneath the pressure. Still, he hoisted himself up the tree with ease, not a drop of sweat even on his brow.

“I work at the station downtown,” he said proudly, despite him being so high up, you could still see the toothy grin on his face. “I’ve been working there for a few years now. I do a lot more than rescue cats though. That’s just a bonus.”

You smiled up at the man as he neared Tofu–digging his claws warily into the branch he was perched on, his tail battered against the wind, and a low, eerie grow rumbled in his chest. As the rescuer approached though, his cry softened as he used all his courage to shuffle towards him. Scooping him securely underneath his arm, he made a quick descent down the tree, opting to jump halfway.

He landed swiftly on his feet, Tofu held steadily in his grasp, right in the leaves in front of you. Shocked, you stumbled back a couple steps before thanking him.

“Thank you so much, you did that so fast!” You clapped your hands together excitedly, taking your cat back into your arms. “I can’t believe a firefighter just happened to be here at the right time.”

Tofu struggled in your grip, trying to urge his way back towards the kind stranger. He outstretched his paws to the man, a soft cry leaving his lips.

“I think Tofu says thank you too,” you laughed, handing back over the cat to his welcoming arms.

He joined in on your laughter, smothering his face into Tofu’s plush, white coat, with a wide smile. “Well thank you Tofu, for letting me pet you.”

Suddenly, through the thick cloud of fluff, that intense stare from before met your eyes again. Cheeks tinted pink, you felt your whole body get enveloped in a swarm of heat.

“I was working out in my garage when I saw you running around,” he continued. “Looked important so I figured I’d see if you needed help. I’m glad I did.”

He lifted his head from the ball of fur, his back straightened and shoulders rolled back, eyes locked on you the entire time. A lazy grin was plastered on his face and his head tilted to the side, his dark, messy hair falling with it.

Then, he outstretched a hand, the one of his tattooed arm, the bold ink catching the light when you took his grip. His unusually warm touch encased your soft skin, fingers wrapped around yours for a moment until his fingertips grazed your palm in retreat.

“I’m Ace.”

Breathlessly, you whispered your name. His presence, not only his looks, but the easy confidence he radited capitaved you in a way you couldn’t trace.

Those couple of seconds couldn’t have felt any longer, the silence growing thick in the space between you. It wasn’t awkward, but the underlying sense of something new began to brew in the air.

Silently, Ace placed the cat back into your arms, breaking the gap–and tension.

“Thank you again,” you said, hugging Tofu close. “For everything. And...apparently he likes you, which is rare. He’s not a fan of guys.”

Ace’s lips curled. “Looks like he has good taste.”

You felt small under his gaze. It wasn’t until then that you realized how tall he was, and the way he was staring at you wasn’t helping. His eyes were burning holes through your skin–his touch doing the same–each action oozing with anticipation.

“Listen,” Ace took a step back, hands fumbling into his pockets. “If this little guy ever gets out again, I’m in that house- open garage, punching bag, can’t miss it.” He motioned his head back towards the street. 

You smiled warmly up at him, nodding at his offer. “I’ll take you up on that. Beats trying to climb a tree again.”

Ace scratched the back of his neck, a sudden hint of shyness peeking through. 

“And like I said, firefighters are good for more than getting cats out of trees. Don’t hesitate to stop by if you need anything.”

You tilted your head, lips curling into a grin.

“You good at moving boxes?” 

He laughed–a real, warm, sunlit laugh.

“The best.”

—

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ (message me to be added or removed)

[miss-tarja]

Like a Fine Wine

Younger! Miguel O'Hara x Sugar Mommy! Reader

WARNINGS: Transactional relationship at the begining, smut, protected p in v, fluff, emotional distress, no strings attached to catching feelings type of thing. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: This is @tatatida raffle event prize <3. Got her permission to post it. Hope you guys like it as mucha as I did writing it :D. So fun to write again!

If there was one thing you hated more than wires in your bra, poking out and digging into your skin was precisely this. Social gatherings with loud music after a long day, that somehow were a must to keep up the appearances within your collaborators and clients.

And the cherry on top besides this, were two little details that had ruined your overall mood and will to believe in such a thing the soon-to-be wedded couple favored.

To starters, the man whom you thought would be that exact same guy with a goofy and moonstruck smile, kneeling before the woman as he proposed to her, not only broke up with you a week ago, right before this party, but also broke the three month engagement you had agreed and partook in, and the urge to make an engagement party after a couple of years dating. 

He cut all ties with your persona and everything that rendered your existence and what you had to offer. And the second bitter cherry, you were selected to make the brides dream come true by not only designing her wedding dress, but her bridesmaids too. 

Oh, how much fun you've been having by designing your own wedding dress. A design that somehow ended up in the bride's main picks. For once you hated your job and everything that came with it. Happy and excited faces, I do's here and there whenever the brides were grateful and went beyond to invite a top tier Haute Couture and lingerie designer like yourself to the ceremony. 

The excitement you'd never get... 

A defeated sigh escaped your lips for the umpteenth time and absentmindedly snatched your third champagne cup from a nearby waiter. Marriage was overrated anyway and the stress had been nicking enough of your nerves. You needed out. 

The mellow, sickly sweet and romantic music had been a bit too much for your ears, same for the laughs and fun and frankly, you hadn't left because the bride wanted some adjustments in her request, but you didn't have the heart to be a wet blanket over her happiness and pollute her joy with your own heartbreak and mood swings. So you waited, and waited and-

"Should I call you a cab?" The waiter's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Rich, deep and oh so exquisite that sent a jolt directly to your spine the emotional discomfort brewing in. 

Oh boy... 

The man before you, clad in white and black was everything but that. A boy, as you usually saw younger men. The white button chemise made a wondrous job in containing his well worked arms that moved effectively while delivering drinks and his chest, puffing with the constant beating of his heartbeats and breathings. Your eyes couldn't help but wander from his gorgeous and cryptic, stoic face, to the narrow and perfectly sculpted waist. 

My goodness...

"... Ma'am?" He chuckled a tad uncomfortable yet used to the looks his appearances provoked. Your eyes casted away, embarrassed for being not so discreet in your ogling. 

"Uh...  no. Sorry. I'm waiting for the bride to finish some stuff. Could you be so kind to fetch me a rose soda, please?" 

"Of course. Anything else?" 

"Just that for the meantime, thank you." 

His red eyes blinked slowly, absorbing your order as he retired your nearly empty champagne cup from the table. 

"I'll be right back." The handsome man spoke and you just nodded with a brief smile before he scrammed off to the drink station not too far away from your spot.

"Seems you caught her eye." One of his coworkers, Harry, spoke with a smile that hinted at nothing but trouble , pointing discreetly your way. 

"Doubt it. She was getting drunk, looking lonely and a bit miserable, probably not having a good time." He huffed, preparing the golden rimmed and fancy glass with ice. 

"C'mon, Migs. I know it's bad to just jump into women like vultures when they're going through vulnerable stuff, but hey, think of it this way." Harry hugged his neck, pulling him closer, "You'll give her a good time to forget whatever thing has gotten her like that." Miguel rolled his eyes. Of course Harry wouldn't pass the opportunity to jump in whatever chance that got him laid. "And, just look at her!" 

Harry nearly groaned after stealing another glance your way. 

"Harry..." Miguel warned, already knowing where the conversation was leading to. 

"C'mon, man. She was staring at you like she would eat you in the spot! Wished women looked at me like that."

"They would, if you weren't a creep about it. Are you even hearing yourself?" His bushy brow quivered and his eyes rolled. "Just get me a rose soda."

"I'm not a creep, O'Hara. And that shit's disgusting, don't know why, it's so freaking sweet and awful but rich people drink it like no tomorrow. But!" He pushed Miguel with his elbow softly, "That only means she must be stacked up in money too." He mumbled while handing him a golden and pink can along a straw. 

"Of course she is. From what I gathered, she's a famous designer, doing the dresses." He shrugged nonchalantly as he poured the sweet smelling concoction in the glass. 

"Then even better! Go for it! Bet you 20$ she's single. And 50$ of my tips you're ending up in her bed tonight." 

"Hilarious you think you'd get tips from these people." He plated up, and returned to you. Or at least, tried since you were nowhere to be seen. He swore you were there some moments ago. 

Until he spotted you talking with the bride, taking notes and sketching so fast in a pad he was genuinely amused for a second at how easy the skills came in your hand. You also took some measurements off the bride and the bridesmaids. It didn't take no longer than fifteen minutes in total to gather what you needed or he supposed. 

He returned again, to finally find you alone in another table, he carried a freshly served drink as the previous one had lost the gas and flavor. You were skimming through your sketch pad, biting your lip as you redrawn over and over the veil's fall.

"Ma'am?" He called and your eyes met his. Lighting up with delight at what he had on the tray.

"Oh, right!. Thank you very much... Uh..." Your brow quirked and Miguel cleared his throat. 

"Miguel. Miguel O'Hara." His lips curved a chip awkwardly as he placed the soda on a cover away from your working tools. 

"Right." Naturally you gave him your name and took a long sip of soda. The sugar in it earned an approving hum from you, Miguel's eyes wandered discreetly over your shiny lips as you licked them. "Hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you, Miguel?" 

The sudden question threw him off, specially when you had asked so out of the blue with such confidence he only allowed his closed ones. The hunt was on and he was the perfect subject to bring home and hang on your wall. Or rather bed. 

"Pardon?" He blinked, genuinely confused as to why would you ask that as he held his tray in an attempt to hide the fidgeting of his hands. He was the one supposedly doing the flirting, not backwards. That is, if you were actually flirting. It had been a long while since he gave into something casual. One night stands weren't something he indulged often, except when his body screamed for release in something else that wasn't his pumping and squeezing hand. 

Bills and temporary jobs kept him busy like that. 

"I asked your age." Your head turned to face him again, and for once, he frowned. Earning you a small giggle. "Relax, sweetheart. Twenty somethings aren't that much of a favorite of mines."

"Then, guess I'm out of your league." 

You chuckled and sipped your soda, not daring to tear your gaze from him. 

"Older than twenty five?" 

He shrugged, quietly admitting a bit of himself, exposed but genuinely amused at your sudden move.

"Ah, I see. We could do an exception." You gestured for him to seat. And he shook his head. 

"Can't do, I'm still on my shift, I'm afraid." 

"All responsibility is on me if something happens. Please. Sit." You gestured and he sat across you, hesitant as you drank another sip, to sweeten your mouth and lace up the words coming off it. "You see, it's not every day I feel particularly... inclined to indulge myself with the people around me. So I'll go straight to the point."

"Id like that, yeah." His words made you smirk. 

"This is probably your second or third job. Yeah?" 

His brows puckered ever softly at the probing guess, but he kept on listening. 

"Sorry if I come out as invasive. Perks of being in this... side of business turns one into a good people reader." You shrugged and he pouted ever softly. 

"Is that so? What can you tell then? Cause, pretty sure you don't know a thing about me, Ma'am." 

"Oh. Feisty, aren't we? I like that. But flirt or whatever this is, aside. I can tell this is your second or third temporary job, your finances aren't that bad, you do manage, but some extra cash wouldn't be bad for you, am I right? What's on the table? A PhD?" 

"Your point is?" He pressed and you smirked 

"Well, since I was lonely, kinda miserable looking and I wasn't having a good time actually, I thought in getting some company." Your words froze him in the spot. And you chuckled again as he cleared his throat. "Your station wasn't that far from my ears, sweetie."

"Sorry about that-."

"Forget about it. I heard enough to know a little play time in bed with me would cost so low. Kinda hurt by that." 

He gulped. His cheeks couldn't help but warm at the implications of your sudden offering. 

"But... wanna think a bit bigger?"

His eyes dropped midway his eyes, like the octave in his voice as he leaned in closer, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his meaty lips.

"I ain't low cost, Hermosa. That's for sure." 

"Do I look cheap to you?." Your voice mellowed with a promise of something else within. "I'm everything but. Not when it comes to treating myself anyway." 

And God he would be the biggest liar if he didn't admit that was the hottest thing a woman had told him in such a long time. That surge of power coursing through him felt a bit too good. He could decline so you could raise you tab higher, given that you were the one in need of him. But since he hadn't named a price, the offering was just as tempting as the slit on your red dress that hugged your curves deliciously, or the dip in your cleavage. 

"What do you want exactly from me?" 

And he enjoyed the chase. The power you indirectly granted him by simply admitting that not only money was in play, but a much needed release. He knew  what you needed, just wanted to hear it for himself to convince his mind that one of his secret fantasies was turning so tangible and real, it sent shivers straight to his groin. 

"Repeating the same and the obvious is useless, You're a smart man. You ain't stupid, Miguel. So name your price."

"Well, it depends on how many times you'd like to repeat doing me, Ma'am." 

And it was your time to laugh, a pleasant burn ran through your body, as the thrill of push and pull increased.

"I'm just some years older than you, Miguel, save the ma'am for your grandma." 

"The more reason to keep myself out of trouble, Señorita." he crooned and your lips stretched wider, leaning closer. 

"You're playing too much and time is money for me. So what do you say? Wanna leave this serving charade and do something productive with your time and with me?" 

"So basically you'll pay me to keep you busy and satisfied." 

"Company sometimes as well, but we'll see about the satisfied part." Your lips curled with mischief, "No strings attached of course. Work is a good outlet, but I wanna vary them." Your lips twitched with a feline glint, "It makes wonders for my creative process, which means more money for me. And for you, of course. It's a win win for us both." 

"No strings attached." He repeated, pondering for a moment. 

"Indeed." Your hand gestured elegantly while raking him unabashedly. "So?" 

"I'd like four thousand. For every meetup." he pressed, keeping his eyes on you. Had it been too much? 

"Student loans?" Your brow quirked and he nodded. "How much you owe?" 

"Twenty four grand to go, and I'll be free." 

"Hm. I see." You mumbled, twirling the pencil in your hand. "And, are you sure that's enough for you?" 

Dios mio... 

His breath stuck in his throat and his eyes darkened for a moment. You were for the kill and he was left defenseless. But in truth, he'd gladly die. And older woman wanted him, a gorgeous and rich older woman, nonetheless, was there offering him the financial freedom he so desperate sought out through shitty jobs and whatever gig that increased his bank account numbers.

You were willing to pay for his company, and he'd be out of debt soon with no strings attached. What else could he ask for? 

"Is it for you?" He pushed, amusing you to no end. 

"Don't worry your pretty head about it, sweetheart."

Well, shit. 

"Anything else, then, Ma'am?" 

You hummed, satisfied at his reply. 

"For you to stop call me that and bring some good booze. We're going home. Make sure to quit. I don't like interruptions on my... meals." 

A shudder ran down his spine and he nodded cockily. Night was still young and strong after all, like him and his sudden appetite. 

Although he owed Harry seventy bucks, the number was certainly insignificant compared to what he'd get after this scrumptious workout. 

Initially, the sight of your ample penthouse had snatched his breath away. Lush and elegant, like your overall aura. That until you changed into a more comfortable set of clothes. And by it, it meant a delicate and short turquoise slip with a matching robe. Drinks and business talk came in next, leading to the  culminating peak of your mutual transaction. 

His hands grope and pulled your hips downwards as he thrusted upwards, trying to match the heart-shaking pace of your hips swallowing him with a need he rarely got to see and experience in a woman. 

"Fu.. Fuck!" He groaned when your hips rolled, switching once again the tempo, pushing all the air out of his burning lungs. "Hermosa-" He croaked and shuddered when your walls clamped and pulsated around him without a truce and rest. What were you doing to him? 

He knew some women were good like that, but this... This was beyond his comprehension and skills. It was like if your insides held him a willing hostage inside, snug and tight, milking and pulsating around him at will. Like if they obeyed your command of squeezing the life out of him in rhythmic contractions. 

"C'mon, darling. You gotta-" You hissed, sinking on top of him in a go, his cock kissed with a wet push the very end of your hilt, earning a shaky whimper from his throat, "You gotta work hard for it, yeah?" 

His hands dug in the meaty slabs of your ass, spreading and smacking your hips through gritted teeth. Your eyes gleamed in wicked delight  upon the sight of him, struggling to catch up, fighting off the haze in his brain that clouded his judgement, leaving him completely bare and at your drenching and fluttering mercy. 

There were few things that older people taught Miguel through life. Not underestimating your drive was one. He had believed he could handle you with a quick but deep fuck and that would be the end of it until further notice. How sadly mistaken he was. 

But oh, the wonders and mysteries of the female anatomy never ceased to amaze him as they churned his guts, demanding for his performance to increase, to double his efforts if possible. And he tried, God knows he tried but your pistoning and riding hips had his brain a swirling puddle. Smooshing his thoughts in a jumbled and incoherent mess. 

Your wetness didn't lie, your nails burying on his back didn't lie as they created red welts wherever they explored and clawed, your mouth devoured his, set into stealing every single breath as you rutted your hips, grinding in such a way it made him dumb. Pussy drunk even, despite the condom fitting beyond perfection to put the blaming arrow on it. For once he wasn't the one doing the magic happening, rather enjoying it. 

"Just like that, Miguel" You hissed on his mouth before he returned the favor in leaving you breathless with his demanding kisses and needy hands. 

He didn't know what was more arousing and mind shattering. If you, riding him like he was being introduced to pleasure for the first time all over again with every  diabolical thrust you put him through, pulling noises he often didn't do with his scarce partners in bed. 

Or knowing this kind of experience  laid ahead in his future restless night's with you, set into making an example of why he should never underestimate older women and their burning and insatiable libido when it hit in its whole might. He was burning. Enjoying the gorgeous, older and in heat woman on top of him. 

Too much expertise for him? Perhaps, but he was grateful to be learning how to survive your appetite. He was a sucker for learning after all. 

His hands squeezed and slapped your rear, equally struggling to handle the bouncing globes as they escaped his trembling fingers with each rut, unable to hold still a handful, urging your moves to go faster, rougher and deeper if possible, determined to pull each ounce of  your knowledge out to test and under scrutiny, like the good yet underpaid scientist he was. 

And his jaw dropped with an agonising moan when you leaned back, supporting your hands on the flat of his thighs, giving him a prime sight of your body. 

Your legs spread wider so your cunt would choke more of him inside, swivelling those gorgeous hips of yours in a circular motion, causing his eyes to glue on the mess between heated and sweaty limbs. Your feet barely touched the floor as they remained curled up. 

His cock stretched your pussy, and every time he pushed in, a little spurt of your juices flowed, coating and making him glisten with a pretty shimmer, and for a brief second he really wished to be able to have it raw. Your breast bounced at a mind-boggling pace. The hard and unceasing wet slap of flesh had turned into one of his favorite melodies, specially the slurping noise your cunt gave him when grinding your hips downwards to suck more of him in. 

For once he didn't mind being the end to someone else's pleasure. Why would he when you gave him one of the most erotic sights he ever had the privilege to witness in a woman? The experience had gone beyond the didactical, as it actually stimulated the right spots in his brain, firing up his need to experience more. 

"I'm cumming!" You shrieked 

How would you look while at it? Exquisite probably. Specially when his hand snaked down your hips and his mischievous thumb pressed against your engorged, sweet tasting and throbbing clit, flickering it up and down with calculated speed and force to not overwhelm and end your prowess demonstration too soon. 

"C'mon hermosa, cum for me." He mumbled in between languid pants, almost tasting your mouth again, and when your peak crashed with his name rolling out of your tongue in a needy shriek, he did nothing but to whimper and follow into the depths of nirvana itself, willing to drown in this head-splitting pleasure. With a final thrust and a wheeze, he sheathed, spilling into the condom, whimpering as his forehead hid in the crook of your neck. His hot breath colliding against your tender skin. 

The agonising and shaky moans slowly evolved into exhausted pants and lazy laughs. 

"My goodness" You kissed him once, he returned it, then twice and a half surprised and satisfied smile stretched on his lips. He had survived you. "You alive, Miguel?"

Barely 

His breath stuck in his throat as you rose, the sting of your walls abandoning him suddenly with a wet pop had him slumping against the bed frame, then chuckled as you stood to stretch like you hadn't sweated an ounce, some joints popping back in place. 

"I'm good, hermosa." His hand slicked the sweaty strands as his eyes wandered over your glistening and flushed body. Walking like you hadn't fucked him to heaven and back, towards the abandoned couch where your forlorn clothes laid, to pick up the robe and covering yourself with it. His mouth pursed gently, disappointed to not see more of his marks on you. 

"Want a drink before round three?" 

Dios mio... 

"If you're trying to kill me to not pay me, just say it." 

That earned him a giggle while you poured him a tall glass of water and approached. 

"Well, if I can recall you even asked if it was enough for me." He took the glass without letting his sight to drift from yours. "And by the looks of it, I think it's better for us to stop here as you've had enough. Don't want to break you too soon." 

"I take your word. It's not that I'm not capable you know? I just-" 

"Thank the kegels, dear. They do wonders." He choked as you laughed at his reaction. "Relax. You did amazing. Hadn't cum like that in months. But enough on it." You stood again and fetched your checkbook from the purse. 

"You want a check or transfer?" 

"Uh... transfer. Roomie's nosy." His shoulders rolled back as he leaned in closer. 

"Roomie?" your eyes blinked but quickly shook the upcoming comment away, "Alright. Transfer shall be. You can stay, there's food on the kitchen in case you're hungry, shower is on the left bottom door-" 

"Wait... You want me to stay?" 

"For you to rest, yes. I've had my fill for the night. And those dresses won't design themselves, so stay if you want. If not, let me call my chauffer so he can drop you off. I don't trust local cabs around here this time at night and they probably scam you." 

Well, shit. Wasn't he being pampered? 

He just remained there, pondering and weighing his options until his mouth ran with an unexpected question that surprised even himself. 

"Are you hungry?" 

It didn't matter how things turned, the feeling of having you writhing underneath him so far had no match. Maybe, just maybe, he could compare it to the same rush of dopamine when he paid the last cent he owed to those greedy college higher ups that always sucked the four thousand he righteously earned by being buried deep in you. 

The whole transaction sure had gained a bit more trust between you two, to the point of him having his own copy to your penthouse. Rushed, maybe, but it was more a practical thing than anything he shooed away in his mind before he started reading wrong in between lines. 

You trusted him enough to allow him stay at your own home, eat your food, order even in case he grew tired of the caviar and other exotic things he had devoured at least once, to have a little taste of the life you were getting him used to. 

He wouldn't admit it but there were some habits of yours that grew on him, like not worrying about the good food. You appetite was as good as in bed as outside of it. Something he started to notice and take a like to. He'd watch you devour your meals without a care in the world, wear the lingerie and clothes you wanted. Bought the things you wished at whim, fucked him whenever you felt like it, and God you did fucked him. You were... you. Unapologetically you.

And much to his dismay, he didn't mind sex coming into a second place in both of your agendas. But, ever since that last time, things had been quite... odd, for not saying weird between you two. But it was weird in a good way, or he supposed. 

He had spent the night, doing nothing but talking and indulging in each other's company until alcohol-induced sleepiness claimed you both, only to find you in the kitchen, cooking for both. A hearty meal to give you a good shot of energy for what came next. And to his surprise and disappointment the cue for him to remove your clothes and fuck each other silly, never came. 

Now here he was, attending your impromptu message personally. 

"I'll be in a business trip soon for a couple of weeks if not months. This place will be empty. You're welcome to stay if your roomie still hasn't learned to mind his business." Your voice echoed across the studio, as you draped silk and tafetta over a mannequin. 

"You're leaving?" A tad incredulous he asked from the door frame. Taking in properly your working mode. Truly not expecting you to call him to let him know you'd be off shore. 

Your back faced him, the robe hung loosely on your shoulder as your nimble fingers created a design directly on the fabric. It truly marveled him the kind of things you could manage on your own. Yet it was enough to ponder a nagging question that had been harassing his mind for quite a while now, after he accidentally found a picture of you, kissing a man's cheek with a moonstruck look in your face. And a ring on your finger. 

What had happened? 

He wasn't one to get into people's business, in fact, he prided in keeping himself away from where he wasn't needed nor invited. Yet the picture had stirred the ever and nearly childish curiosity in him. Would you take it wrong if he asked? How would you react if he asked something about the mysterious man, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes next to you? 

"Gotta do a runway in London, then in Paris and Australia. The lots of meetings every day with my manager and team in Greece. And New York again."

If it wasn't for the blasé tone in your voice, he'd thought you were excited to see the world. But he had seen glimpses of the cruel and merciless world a designer threaded on. Stolen ideas, designs, collections, and backstabbing from the least suspecting; nights with little to no sleep, unhealthy eating patterns, stress, anxiety with logistics, contacts, and people asking for favors, sabotaging ... 

And so much more he couldn't remember properly at the moment, but it gave him a better understanding as to why you had sought him, and devoured him until you had your fill. Cause it was never about his pleasure in the first place. And he didn't mind. 

If he was honest, it was what happened after the hookups that ignited that need to experience it all over again. Your sated, sweet laughter in his arms paved the way for a new addition to the already blurry casual dynamic. The intimate talks late at night, while his fingers caressed your scalp, admiring those fine silver threads, peppering your hair here and there, had become his favorite part of the ritual.

Unavoidable as it was, the no strings attached mantra had been slowly vanishing from his brain. Specially when his compliments flared your cheeks and made you giggle like a crushing teenager again. Or when his touches became more gentle and aimed towards soothing you after a long day of stressful events. Your kisses turning more intimate, lingering with each passing week. 

He once found himself kissing the back of your shoulder, in return of yet another mind-splitting orgasm. 

"If you're bringing company to impress, please make sure to clean properly." 

What? 

"Excuse me?" His voice crisped with anger, and you turned to see him, surprised he'd take that personally instead of the usual humorous and borderline jerk-ish and dry way. 

"Sorry..." You returned the attention towards the mannequin again. “Forgive me. That was stupid.”

Very. 

How did you even dare to think he'd do that? Hadn't he been available for you whenever you wanted? Wasn't his loyalty proven enough? 

The sudden epiphany left him even more agitated. The mere thought of being with someone else while being with you, even if transactional, angered him. Offended him even. 

"Just... You know what to do." He mumbled and left the room. A clear 'call me when you need me'. 

"Miguel-" You called but he had been long gone. 

You knew he was a pithy man when it came to words. But his sudden leaving felt odd, even worst when the door from the main door slammed shut. Leaving you with the loneliness as your only companion once again. 

His feet stopped dead in his tracks upon watching the penthouse, your room specifically, empty. Devoid of your presence and some of your clothes and luggage. in the drawers. 

Fuck

He knew you were on a business trip, but, didn't expect you to be gone so soon. Not when he had returned to apologize from yesterday's slip with his temper. And now, he had to wait for God knows how long before he could see you again.

Miguel could text you an apology, or email you one, but it wasn't the way his mother raised him, messed up as it was. Conchata always made sure to make him apologize face to face, so the lesson was learned. Besides, although his thumbs itched to send you a text message, what would he talk about? 

Probably his text would get lost in the many thousands you had yet to attend. So adding himself like another stress factor didn't feel right. Not when you had runways to do and stuff. He'd have to wait although the idea sat wrong in his chest. 

He could leave whatever thing going on between you two, if he wished. He could turn back close the door and forget that he had shared a good couple of months with you. His debt had been paid already, but he never had the courage to tell you. Not because he wanted more money, no. He simply wasn't ready to say goodbye so soon. 

Not when he had gotten used to your presence, your laugh, your sweetness when it came to him. If anything he had been saving up for leaving the city, and couldn't do it if he had no money. But now that his heart found a little detour from the no strings attached rule, he didn't want to go back. 

With a last glance, he took his phone and pressed the chat log of your number. The pretty logo of your company displayed with pride, leaving the text box open. Urging him to write something, to drop the pride and reach out first. But cowardice held him in a choking grip. 

He left. Unable to go past his pride and send you a text message to ask you when would you return. If you needed him, you'd let him know, right? You wouldn't leave him hanging. 

Right? 

You could have any man you wanted, you had him after all. Yet it was enough for his mind to punish itself with all source of intrusive, pessimistic and anxious thoughts. Your plane crashing, you being gone for good, you forgetting about him by finding a new toy. You being with someone else. 

The latter made him frown with an unpleasant sensation coursing through him. Unable to pinpoint between jealousy or fear. 

Maybe you hadn't contacted him in weeks cause you were busy as usual, or the signal sucked.

You were too childish for her. 

His brain trembled and his hand rubbed against his face, letting the headache to brew in. 

She doesn't like it when you behave like a spoiled brat. 

Another thought jabbed his mind and he sighed. What had you done out of him? He often didn't care in the slightest about what people thought of him, but the idea of you not contacting him because he had acted like precisely was too embarrassing to ignore, and that little act up he gave you before you left, only reinforced such thought. 

You needed a man, not a man child. 

The waiting slowly ate his brain alive, until a couple of news stories through social media gave him important and invaluable information he refused to get directly out of embarrassment. After a month and some more without your presence in his life, you were to return within a couple of days to New York. Or so the fashion fan's forum online said. 

He'd get to see you soon. 

The thought alone sent an equally happy and anxious shiver down his spine as his mind raced with all the things he needed to do. 

Would you want to see him again? 

Hopefully... 

Exhausted was a measly word to describe your current mood. The flight had not only delayed twice, but some of your luggage was missing. Important luggage with materials you needed for the bride's dress. 

The fashion tour had drained you so bad to the point of barely leaving time for yourself. If you had the time for drinking a cup of coffee was to say it was too much free time. But now that your agenda finally allowed you to breath and conceded a bit of time, you were ready to go home, take a long bath and sleep the rest of the day. 

Your feet ached, your head pounded and Miguel-

You stopped in your tracks and blinked, just to make sure the sight before you wasn't a product of your quanked mind. 

Holding a bouquet of spring flowers, dressed to impress with a look that could only be translated as  'I'm here for you.' was Miguel. Tentatively, he took a step closer, then another and another until he was before you, towering over your frame with a coy yet genuine soft smile.

"Hey..." 

You hummed, too stunned to see him here, taking the time to see you. 

For a brief of second you couldn't help but wonder if he had ran out of money, hence his presence here. Right? Cause your brain sort of refused to believe, rather didn't want to believe someone like him was genuinely interested in you, not when money had played a huge part in your relationship.

"Hey." Still, it felt good to think at least he cared enough to take his pretense a bit further and actually make you feel special. 

"I'm sorry." He blurted, stopping all thoughts in a go in your overriding brain, "I... wanted to apologize for what happened a month ago. Shouldn't have gotten so upset over it." He offered the flowers, hoping you accepted them. And when you did his heart almost leaped in his throat upon seeing your eyes turning glossy. 

Fuck. 

"I'm sorry for... you know. Fuck... I'm not good at this... but damn. I've... I've missed you, Hermosa." 

"You did?" The question threw him out of the horse's saddle, specially when there was so much unbelieving behind your tone. This time, instead of anger a lick of sadness came through his heart. He didn't know what had happened in your previous relationship, but whatever it did, sure left some open wounds he now started to see. 

Late as usual, but he finally noticed those cracks in your seemingly dismissive behavior whenever he got too close. The defenses your heart put up every time he complimented you genuinely, or his touches began turning a bit too intimate. 

"Of course I did, hermosa. I'm sorry for not contacting you much sooner. I... I didn't know if you wanted to still see me after what happened." He admitted, his heart pounded in his throat as you shook your head. 

"Please don't blame yourself for that. I shouldn't have said something like that either. It was my fault." You sighed, taking a good sniff of the flowers, your nerves soothed, "I should've contacted you as well. But you've got no idea how busy I was."

"Can only imagine." He offered his hand, "Let me help you with your luggage. Are you hungry?" 

The knot in your throat only tightened. 

"You're so sweet, Miguel." Your hand caressed him and he leaned in your touch, letting your warmth to bask him in again, he had missed it. He had missed you. 

"Learned that from a good teacher." He kissed your palm and before his mind scolded him from breaking the detachment rule so miserably, he pulled you for a hug. Inhaling your perfume for the first time in weeks. 

"I've missed you. A lot. I always thought about you, but my job-" 

"Hey, hey. Corazón, it's ok. I know you were working your pretty ass off back in those runways. I'm just glad you're back. Missed my favorite bossy woman." 

That earned him a half sob and chuckle as he kissed your temple and held you. 

Despite the curious and not so discreet glances some people gave your way, Miguel held you by the waist as you walked back to your awaiting car. Ready to catch up and finally, bring those walls down surrounding your heart once and for all. 

What he didn't count in was the same man he had seen back at your place in that picture, was now awaiting in the living room of your penthouse, looking in between you and him, like he had seen a ghost. 

Or for you to ask him to wait in the studio as you handled some stuff. 

But he definitely did not expect the heated argument escalating between you and that man to the point of  him rushing to your side as soon as he heard glass shattering. 

You were in tears, shaking, distressed as the man held his hips and shook his head.  

"You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at you, fucking guys that barely know shit about life." He spat as soon as he saw Miguel. 

"Funny you say so when you broke up our engagement because you didn't feel it was the right time, but you think I didn't know what you did!? You think I don't know you were stealing from me the whole time and spend it on your fucking drugs!?" 

"That was my job too! I worked for your stupid dream as much as you did. It's my job on the line too!" 

"You didn't work shit! I was the one doing the job! It's always been me taking the lead in our business because you're too fucking insecure to make a decision! You were dragging me down, Charles." 

"Well, thank me for dumping you. You think this kid loves you? How much are you paying him to screw yo-" 

Charles, or rather Charlie, your ex fiancé, didn't get to finish as he fell with a hard thud on the coffee table, breaking it in half after Miguel silenced him with a powerful punch in his face. 

Your hand covered your mouth as Miguel dragged the man through the floor with such strength and ease, it made your eyes widen, as he pushed Charles out of your penthouse. As if throwing a bag of trash outside. 

The door rattled when said man kicked it from the other side, startling you. But also having Miguel to pull you to his side without tearing his gaze from the door. 

"Are you okay, hermosa?" His gentle voice was a stark contrast against the merciless beat down he put Charles through. His thumb moved in soothing circles against your lower back. 

"Yeah, just... fuck. I swear I had no idea he would appear out of nowhere-" 

"Hey, It's alright. You don't have to explain yourself, guapa. He came here looking for trouble. Couldn't leave you hanging." 

"You're... not upset?" 

His hand cupped your cheek and wiped away the shy tears approaching the corner of your eyes

"Why would I? He came looking for trouble. They found him. And I never got to ask who was he anyway. Didn't think it was important." He kissed your temple as soon as you shuddered. 

"He wasn't. At least, not anymore. Sure I was engaged to him, but you heard the rest."

"Still, I don't understand why he dumped you."

"He had stolen enough. He didn't need me anymore. So, go figure." 

Miguel frowned and examined your face for a couple of seconds, before pursing his lips. He didn't like the way fear clung to your features. 

"He won't hurt you, ever again. Got it?" 

You nodded. And he gulped while speaking again. 

"You know... I know it might seem like I'm taking advantage of it, but I promise you... it stopped being about the money a long ago." His words sent another jolt to your heart

"And I know... I know it might seem rushed and you might think I'm just playing to get money but... I'm not, I promise I'm not." He swallowed again, "I... I really like you. I like... No. I love spending time with you. You're so... sweet and... and so considerate with me,  You're always helping me around, looking after me even if I act stupid. " He chuckled nervously, stumbling on his own speech, "You're just... so amazing, hermosa. And... I'd be the luckiest man if you give me a chance to prove you how much of the man you need, I can be." 

All he needed was a yes from you. Instead, you pulled him down for a kiss. A kiss that had him snaking his hands around your waist, and pulling you closer so he could consume your supple and needy lips. No vocal reply was needed. Not when the answer tasted sweeter than the wine you loved to drink. 

Like the compliments he gave you when clamping like a vice around him, like the little pout you gave in your sleep after a good night of several rounds with him. 

He didn't care if you were years older than him, he wanted you. And none else but you. And now that you were his, and he yours, neither had the intentions of letting go. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hihi! Just wanted to say I absolutely LOVE your works esp the kurapika ones

Soo basically they take the reader out shopping specifically for undergarments and someone just so happens to walk in while they’re changing? Maybe w the phantom troupe + kurapika?

Panties and such(NSFW)

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: I’m going to assume you mean that the character walks in on reader, but if you meant a random person, sorry 😭🙏 also I’m only doing a two from the phantom troupe, doing all of them is just too much. I’ll do a part two if enough people want it, though! 🫡 REQUESTS OPEN! JOIN MY SERVER

characters: Kurapika, Chrollo, Feitan

warnings: creampie, reader wears lingerie, semi-public sex in Kurapika’s

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

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Kurapika

-you brought up the fact you wanted new panties, and he nodded along before processing what you said.

-“d-did you say… panties? As in… underwear?”

-a little flustered, but he insists on taking you, and paying for whatever you want.

-he brings you to a lingerie store, pouting when everyone assumes he’s a woman. that does work in his favor tho

-he keeps bringing you different sets of lingerie to try on, and he’s starting to get horny imagining you in each pair.

-eventually he pushes himself inside the dressing room, eyes going wide and cock hardening in his pants when he sees you pulling up a pair of lacy panties.

-he pushes them to the side, slipping his cock into you and pushing you up against the wall. “s-so pretty, angel…”

-you leave the store with several new sets of lingerie… some of them a bit… sticky…

Chrollo

-he’s the one that suggested it.

-“my love, it seems you don’t have much lingerie. You know how I’d just love to see you covered in lace, don’t you?”

-he takes you to the most well known, expensive lingerie store in the area.

-he’s a bit picky, and takes forever choosing what options for you to try on. He settled on mostly black lingerie, with a few pink and red sets… and one white one, with little angel wings on the top.

-Chrollo helps you into each set, his fingers gently tracing your figure. “Just gorgeous… oh my love, you look like an angel sent from above.”

-he’s quick to purchase every set you try on, and soon as you get home he’s on top of you, his teeth nipping at your jaw as his cock sinks into you.

-“that’s my pretty girl, so good for me…”

-he takes you out for dinner later that night, insisting you wear the lingerie he fucked you in. You spend the entire dinner feeling his cum oozing out of you, embarrassed as he stares at you with utter love and adoration.

Feitan

-“Bras? Don’t care about that. Steal it if want it.”

-that’s usually how it went when you asked Feitan to go shopping with you for anything. Either he’d say he didn’t care, or he’d offer to just steal it for you.

-so that’s how you ended up following him to the lingerie store in the middle of the night. He easily broke in, guiding you by the hand through the dark store until the two of you reached the lingerie.

-“okay. Pick your favorite.”

-you huffed at him, looking through the selection. “I’ve gotta try it on first…”

-you stripped, and this got Feitan excited enough… but he started stroking himself when you pulled on a pair of lacy panties.

-he continued to jerk off to you, until you caught him in the mirror.

-“F-Fei!”

-you blushed, but felt strangely flattered… “I’ll take care of it…”

-you sat in front of him, leaning down to take his cock in your mouth. “F-fuck…”

-seeing your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, your ass perched in the air was enough to have him cumming in no time.

-he helped carry home as many sets of lingerie as you wanted… maybe he liked seeing you like that more than he thought.

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[thetrasha]

Hello there, it's me again! The one who asked for the ideal types.

I hope you feel better soon, and let me know if you need a break, I don't want to bother with too many requests!

Have you finished Dressrosa? Today I'm here to request something for a specific character. This ask will be even vaguer than the previous ones; I'll give you a lot of creative freedom because I don't even know what I want :')

The only thing I know is that I need something fluff whit Corazon (Rosinante). We need more content of this man here on Tumblr!!

This feels like ages ago but just to confirm: Yes, I'm not sick anymore lol hooray

I can't believe it myself, but I'm ALMOST done with Dressrosa!! :D "Almost" (25 episodes bye). We're so back (Well, I wasn't ever gone, but you had to wait a long time to have this request fulfilled so I do hope I did it justice)~ Take care and without further ado: Rosinante requests are officially allowed on this blog‼️😤

I hope you like this <3 I think it's pretty good (❁´◡`❁) But long!!

Still Waters Run Deep

feat. ROSINANTE

“You look ridiculous, Commander.”

“Thanks for your input, (Y/N)…”, Rosinante grumbled, practising his new makeup routine over and over again. He couldn’t quite get the look right, the blue star beneath his right eye not coming out as symmetrical as he’d hoped. The painted grin on his face was also pretty lopsided. Sengoku started laughing right at his face yesterday morning.

You could all but giggle at your friend’s strange change in appearance. This wasn’t like him at all…

You were found mere months after Rosinante was – your home island had fallen victim to natural disasters, leaving it totally uninhabitable. Most people, including your family, eventually chose to flee from the elements for your own safety, but you all got caught in a vicious hurricane that beat down on your rudimentary rafts that should have carried you far and wide, away from such a hostile environment. By some miracle, you survived, but were now stranded at sea… with no one to talk to, hungry and broken.

That is, until a marine vessel almost crashed into your tiny sailboat as you were slowly dying of thirst. It didn’t even register to you that you’d been saved, you’ve started hallucinating ships on the horizon days ago, so this was just another hopeless fever dream to you. After it’s been confirmed that there had been no other surviving relatives, Sengoku had personally ordered that you’d be taken into Navy custody after you’ve confirmed your own age under wails and hiccups, suddenly desperate to re-socialise his traumatised foster son Rosinante… with a friend he could relate to.

You grew up together as a package deal, experiencing each other’s highs and lows through your teenage years and early adulthood.

Maybe that’s why you were the only other person who knew about his secret mission – despite only being a mere Lieutenant. You firmly disagreed with his choice to contain his older brother’s madness. In the North Blue, the Donquixote Pirates were rampaging like the lunatics they are… and you genuinely thought that Rosinante was going to regret this mission and get backed into a corner, even if he was steadfast in his conviction. This was the only point of tension between you two – and the arguments kept piling up in recent months, especially after he’s officially requested to be sent on “extended medical leave for sustaining severe injuries”…

Yeah, right. Like he’s ever cared about that in the first place. HQ was so damn naive!

“If only you chose a non-smoker as your persona instead of… whatever this is.”, you commented dryly, watching him cough and double over as soon as he inhaled a bit of dark blue eyeshadow dust. He even tripped over his own feet and landed right into your arms. Luckily for the both of you, you were strong enough to hold his entire frame in place for a short moment.

“It’s called stealth.”, he said directly into your ear, making you shiver for a moment.

“Uh-huh. Evidently, it’s not called ‘health’. You’re going to set yourself on fire if you continue smoking in this absurd attire, Rosi. Look at that coat. Horrible. You’ll die before you even get there.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance at his decision to leave soon, groaning as he slowly moved away from you, using your shoulders as leverage to stand up to his full height. Since he suddenly stood a lot closer to you, you had to crane your neck up to look into his copper-coloured eyes.

At least his eyes were still the same ones you knew. Other than that, he might as well have turned into a caricature of his older brother – extravagant feather coat, dark shades and a bizarre suit. The only thing that was kind of cute was the dark magenta beanie with little heart tails.

“I won’t die, I promise.”, he smiled, trying to manoeuvre you into a sweet hug, but you didn’t want to hug him when he looked like this.

You pouted, pushing him away, at which he frowned. The sad, red grin on his cheeks became even more uneven as the corners of his mouth turned upside down in disappointment.

“You might. Sengoku sent me away to work with Vice Admiral Tsuru, she operates near Spider Miles, you fool! What if we have to fight each other?!”

He breathed out shakily, flashing you a trembling smile that couldn’t have been more of a lie if he tried, “You’re transferring to… Spider… Miles?”

His large hands found your shoulders again, squeezing you as he pulled you flush against him. The intensity of his hug might as well have crushed your bones, but you wrapped your arms around his waist in return, knowing that he needed it right now. But when he pulled back, he looked visibly sick.

“Don’t faint, Rosi…”, you cooed in a gentle voice, but watched the sway in his step with a gulp before he came crashing down upon you, “Ah- Help! HELP!!! He’s- crushing me!!”

What you didn’t know is that evening, on that very fateful day, marked the only time Rosinante ever screamed at Sengoku for even entertaining the idea of you being anywhere near the Donquixote Pirates. His foster father explained that he thought his son would love to, at the very least, see you around on his undercover mission, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Rosinante didn’t ever want to have you watch him commit sins right under your nose while you’d have to try to contain him and the other Donquixote elites. He especially wouldn’t forgive himself if you ended up hurt because of him. Worse if it was at the hands of his brother. He would see red and be blinded by rage, no rational thought left. It would… jeopardise this whole thing.

The next day, the cancellation of your transfer sat on your desk.

One week later, you’d be seeing each other for the last time in a long time.

“So this is it...”, you said quietly, looking at a new version of the man you’ve spent your life with. He nodded, swallowing a dry lump in his throat.

Now Rosinante would become a pirate, commit the unspeakable and… work under this madman of a brother. Nothing you said could have convinced him to stay – you tried so many things, so many times. It was pointless to attempt to sway him now, all you could do was accept fate at this point. It wouldn’t ever be the same again; he… might as well have died that day.

He’s been such a steady presence in your life… you don’t even know whether you could live without him.

Maybe that’s why you never confessed your feelings to him. Rosinante was destined to fell his own brother’s evil empire. Every choice would have eventually led him down this path – it was in his kind nature to try and mitigate the damages Doflamingo might cause. Hell, it was in his nature to try to save the world, even if he was but one man; even if it was hopeless, he would always try… just on the off chance that it might do something. He is an extreme idealist who dreams about leaving the world a better place than he found it. And you’ve fallen for this sentimental idiot, knowing that he’d exchange his life for someone else’s. Loving him was futile, even if he secretly longed to experience it – his calling would be his death sentence. You just knew it…

So you gave him one last look, blinking away tears. Rosinante wouldn’t have to see you cry for him, it would just weigh on his mind and make him feel guilty for leaving you behind, but this was what he trained for. All those years spent rigorously training… He’d been ready before he decided to go on this undercover mission in the first place.

You spoke up, burying your face in his chest to hide your sorrowful expression from his view, your voice cracking with heartbreak, “If you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find me.”

...

Two years.

Two wretched years.

Rosinante hadn’t talked to you for two years, but he’s thought of you every single day of his new life. It wasn’t easy, being a commander of the Donquixote Pirates… among such vicious and callous men who’d kill anyone who stood in their way. Worst is that, on the surface, he has become just like them, even if they believe ‘Corazon’ never changed – that he’s always been cruel. That… couldn’t be further from the truth. It was so, so hard to leave you. This mission might have cost him everything. The beauty of growing up with you was witnessing the person you became. You were a deity in every way – benevolent, gracious, just… you really looked out for your people, always keeping an eye on your best friend. How could he not fall for someone like you? Someone who’s held him when he suffered through nightmares that soaked him in a cold sweat, someone who hummed a sea shanty whenever he saw a vessel of World Nobility pass by, someone who… came to him – only ever him – when there was an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption or a tsunami… because you saw a protector in him.

You knew Rosinante wasn’t meant to destroy, he was always meant to defend.

God… how much he loved you for that alone.

How pathetic.

You’d probably moved on with your life. While your best friend was stuck in the same Hell he chose two years later, you were probably a Commander these days, perhaps you even outrank him now, maybe you’d gotten… married – and forgot about him.

He tripped over a raised root of an oak, rolling down a steep hill until he fell right in front of Law’s unimpressed face, holding a bunch of unknown fruit he deemed edible… maybe not delicious, but edible.

Rosinante had probably broken a rib or two by crashing into their camp like that, but he didn’t even think about the pain because you’ve been haunting him.

“If you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find me.”

Law wasn’t improving at all and they were running out of time. He chose to save that boy’s life three months ago, but no doctor was willing to help him… if anyone could help him at all. The papers continued writing about a child with Amber Lead Syndrome showing up in different parts of this ocean, always somehow evading the World Government – all thanks to the Calm-Calm Fruit.

Rosinante has bound himself to this dying child now. He… felt responsible for him. He was sure that this was probably how Sengoku felt about him when that little blond boy couldn’t stop crying his heart out all those years ago.

“If you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find me.”

All Law had known the past few years was pain and suffering. The fact that the kid could sleep at all was a miracle. If Rosinante wasn’t aware of the wound inside his young soul, he would have thought that he was just a normal child. A bit sickly, but normal. Oh, how wrong he was. That amount of torment would have ripped anybody else apart.

This was Law’s chance at life! He’s been fighting his own demons for years and wants to be set free so bad, but neither Rosinante nor Corazon had the power to do that with time running against them.

“If you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find me.”

Maybe… just maybe… if Law was truly dying – not that he is! Of course… there is a cure out there, probably in the shape of a Devil Fruit – he deserved to be with… family.

You genuinely thought you were starting to hallucinate as soon as Rosinante stood in front of your door, a little boy right next to him. Your mouth was so wide open that your jaw might have hit the floor… you can’t recollect that moment all too well because you couldn’t stop a river of tears flowing down your cheeks as desperate wails rang through the dead of night. The man you’ve been waiting for embraced you sweetly, shushing you with gentle hums as you squeezed him tight. You were suddenly glad that you lived so far away from the base… it did make your commute to work living Hell, but Rosinante wouldn’t have ever gained the courage to come there if you chose a different living situation– because of that little boy that stared at you two.

The kid’s expression was unreadable, but there was some sort of longing in his eyes.

“And- who’s this?”, you smiled through the tears before you crouched down in front of Rosi’s companion. Meanwhile, your best friend sniffled but it turned into a pained gasp when he hit his head on your door frame…

“I’m Law…”

“Hello Law, I’m (Y/N)…”

“…” He just stared at you.

“…”

“…” His gaze filled with hope turned into a glare, his face pulled into a snarl.

“Everything alright?”, you asked quietly, trying to come closer but the strange child pulled back immediately. He briefly shot a mean look towards Rosinante, who’s started smoking behind you, before his eyes zeroed in on you again.

“Aren’t you scared?”, Law growled.

You blinked, causing him to scoff. The man who could resolve all of this stayed quiet behind you, but you did hear him put out a fire with a yelp… sigh. You told him!

“Why would I be scared?”

“Are you stupid or blind? I have Amber Lead Syndrome.”

“Ah, now all those reports make a lot more sense… Rosi, you- you idiot! Do you know what you’ve done?! Are you insane?!”

Your scolding did cause Law to slump, looking at who he affectionately referred to as Cora-san with fury in his eyes now. Of course you’d blow up at Corazon and then at Law himself. You’d think he was contagious and call the Navy-

“I promise I didn’t mean to make your job more difficul-”

“QUIET! We’ll talk in the living room, you monumental--- gah!! I can’t even insult you anymore. I’m too happy to see you. GO! And don’t… fall… I… uh… first aid’s still in the bathroom, Rosi.”

Law stood on your welcome mat, almost shedding tears upon being abandoned by the man he’s come to respect the most. This was the final straw, it was hopele-

“Law, are you coming or do you want to sleep outside?!”, you shouted from a room inside your home… and that little boy couldn’t believe his own ears.

…In fact, he couldn’t even trust his own eyes when you were sitting on your knees on the plush cushions of your couch trying to suture the fresh laceration on Corazon’s forehead with shaky fingers, a cup of hot cocoa in his tiny hands while… that walking fire hazard of a man looked at you like a lovesick fool.

“What is going on here?!”, Law screamed, pointing at you two after taking a sip of the hot beverage you’ve just made him.

“What do you mean?”, Rosinante echoed, hissing when you disinfected the edges of his cut before you went back in with the needle. He was a lot bigger than regular people, meaning that he sustained even larger injuries if he got hurt. The amount of stitches this took was ridiculous…

“Why are we here?! She’s not a doctor! She doesn’t even know how to properly treat a minor cut!”

“You’re a rude brat, you know that?”, you chuckled, patting the child’s spotted head, “But you’re really cute, so I’ll let it slide…”

Law blushed, huffing in frustration while Rosinante wore an overjoyed expression, pointing at you two with sparkling eyes.

Since it was the middle of the night, you both told the child that suddenly entered your life to go to sleep and rest well. You had no guest bedroom, so you gave your bed to Law. Rosinante smirked, dramatically showing off his Devil Fruit powers by making the entire bedroom soundproof with a dorky thumbs-up. You shook you head at him with a bright smile… This guy…

And then you went back into the living room, silently staring at each other. You bit your lip and rubbed your arms, not knowing what to say.

Neither of you had to say anything because the blond man fell to his knees, hugging you as if you were going to disappear. And you couldn’t help but fall into his arms and kiss him. Your lips desperately moved against his own. You knew you were getting lipstick all over yourself, but you didn’t care one bit. Rosinante’s hands found the small of your back whilst yours circled his neck before throwing his hat away. You buried your hands in his blond locks.

A surprised squeal left your mouth when he lifted you up in his arms, tearing away from you with an undoubtable hunger in his eyes. His pupils were blown out and he almost looked properly smitten, perfecting mirroring your own expression.

His strength allowed him to easily move his hands under your thighs while you clung to him, resting your head against his buzzing chest. Rosinante panted like he crossed the entire North Blue on foot, but looked as content as ever.

He squeezed you and kissed the crown of you head lovingly.

You looked back up at him with a sheepish smile.

“Today I learnt that I could have done this ages ago.”, he mumbled, nuzzling his head against yours with an airy sigh.

“Today I learnt that Amber Lead Syndrome isn’t contagious. Poison?”

“Uh-huh.”, Rosinante clicked his tongue, letting you back down, “Thanks for being so nice to him. He needs it.”

“I can imagine. Poor boy. He’s got that look, you know?”

He tilted his head, his fringe falling into his eyes – a sight that suddenly made you nostalgic.

“The look you had in your eyes when we met. Sad and broken.”, you confessed –

– and Law’s heart stopped for a moment.

“I’ll help you find a way to help him. Don’t know how, but… I will.”

“I love you.”, Rosinante whispered, running his hands down your sides.

You were at peace… finally. Even if times will definitely get a lot rougher from now on.

Law was about to tip-toe back into your bedroom, but you spoke up again, making his breath hitch in fear.

“Love you, too. Let’s wash off your eye make-up, Rosi.”

“About that…”

“Face paint?”

“So…”

“You didn’t get a tattoo.”

“…”

“God help you once Sengoku finds out. He’s going wish you never enlisted.”

Rosinante smirked, stealing yet another kiss from you.

Law could just watch you… – mildly disgusted – but mostly trying to hold back sobs and whimpers. You… you were so kind, as kind as Cora-san. You didn’t let your prejudiced mind treat him badly, you would have accepted infection if it meant that little boy would be at ease around you. You touched him without fear…

And you were both marines.

It… didn’t make any sense, but… what did make sense at this point? Two marines were now taking care of him as if he were one of their own so maybe there was a cure waiting for him after all.

…What a silly thought!

But he didn’t embrace death anymore.